She Makes No Apologies
by Aurelia22
Summary: "A rival? Now my dear, I would urge you to look a little deeper than Potter.." But Harry Potter should be watching his own back for in his 5th year things aren't always as they seem. Malfoys, Voldie and a girl from the past. *Chapter 18*
1. The Letter

She Makes No Apologies  
  
Rated: PG13 for now --- heck we must have some smut. ;) Summary: Well it's my first Potter fic and will get very dark in the later chapters. Please read and review because it really makes it all worthwhile. ( Oh yea // means letter/dream. Disclaimer: Yep you now the drill they along belong to JK Rowling and whoever else has the rights *confuzzed* Enjoy!  
  
The Letter  
  
A clear shaft of sunlight fell from one of the high windows that surrounded the study. It fell onto the center of the rich carpet, showing up all the dust particles flowing in the musty air.  
  
Lucius Malfoy stood grandly in the enclosed space, his wife Narcissa sitting rigidly in a worn leather armchair. Light chugs could be heard in the water pipes and the slow monotonous ticking of an old grandfather clock seemed to fill their surroundings. The lord held a scroll, crumpled between his clenched fist. It was a letter from their son.  
  
Malfoy cast his pewter gaze sternly at a spot somewhere to the left of him; his wife looked anxiously up at him, not daring to break their silence. He suddenly became aware of her nervous eyes upon him. Turning his fine- featured head towards Narcissa, his silvery hair glinting, Lucius Malfoy spoke.  
  
"It is from Draco." He said flatly.  
  
"Draco?" She questioned with a splutter of indignation.  
  
"Indeed." Lucius replied sourly taking his eyes off his wife and proceeding to march towards the carved door. "I must leave." He called back and vanished out into the corridor. Narcissa frowned, wondering how a letter from her only son could have caused so much tension.  
  
The tall silhouette of the man strode down the hard-floored hallway, his footsteps echoing off the darkly lit walls.  
  
"Pack my robes." He ordered to a random house-elf. She promptly scurried away leaving Lucius to enter his bedroom alone.  
  
The chamber was hidden in the artificial darkness of the heavy drapes at the windows. It was the way he liked it. Rubbing his chin slightly, he held his wand up to the ceiling and muttered "lettria lumos" and at once an orange glow seeped down from somewhere above him, casting just enough light for him to reread the letter.  
  
The four-poster bed creaked slightly as he lowered his weight onto it. He smoothed the parchment out carefully, the emerald in his ring casting a prism over Draco's scratchy script.  
  
// Father, At the time I though this seemed like nothing but now I'm not so sure. Anyway I thought you should know. Two days ago this new girl joined my year. She's in Slytherin, which will make a change from Parkinson, however I thought it was odd, her coming so late into the year. She seems to know her stuff, I think Snape likes her. Well she knew I was a Malfoy, said I looked like you and apparently she's been in Albania all this time. Her name's Rowan Lennox. Tell me what you know. Give my love to mother.  
  
Draco. \\  
  
Lucius scrunched the clean parchment fully and rubbed the back of his neck slowly.  
  
"Lennox." He said to himself. "I know that name.. But at Hogwarts?.. Surely?.."  
  
He stood up as abruptly as before. Again the mattress creaked. The lord of the Manor would have to see this for himself. He reached the door and delved to the left of him.  
  
The cold unforgiving cast of the silver serpent's head met with his hand. He pulled and his staff came into view. Many who had looked upon the work of his master had been revolted. Malfoy saw it as a thing of beauty. The sinuous lines, its delicate eyes of malicious green gems and that handy place to conceal his wand, all made for a delectable weapon.  
  
He gripped it tightly and said, "apparatus". In an invisible blast he appeared in his main hall. The gothic gargoyles leered unpleasantly down at him. The low-burning candles cast ominous shadows of their wrought iron holders onto the stone walls. The grand painting of his father, hung in such away that you could not fail to gape at it, glistened eerily in the yellowed light.  
  
His leather case wall neatly packed and waiting for him on a mahogany side- table. He now gripped both its handle and his staff firmly. Looking round at his Manor, he repeated his charm "apparatus", and got ready to find out if the Lennox family had indeed returned. 


	2. Secrets & Lies

// = letter/dream * = italics Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Secrets and Lies  
  
The bone-chilling cry of Draco's screech owl chilled the Great Hall temporarily. It swooped down victoriously, cutting up many of the other birds' ways. Its pale-haired owner was eating his breakfast, protected by his other beasts Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
Malfoy looked up with a smirk as the bird settled on his robed shoulder. He unclasped the carried parchment and sent the bid flying off with yet another deafening cry.  
  
He unrolled the letter and saw his father's elegant writing. It was a strange reply, he thought, being only four words long.  
  
// I shall come tonight. \\  
  
However, he thought again and decided that it was probably the best response he could get.  
  
From a few seats down Pansy Parkinson looked snootily up at him. Her pug face was contorted into a ball of curiosity. Rowan Lennox, who was sitting opposite also slid her gaze briefly in the direction of Malfoy. Unlike her companion, her eyes did not linger.  
  
Putting the letter back into his pocket, Malfoy became aware that the subject of last night's letter was only a few places away. He felt the colour rise slightly in his cheeks but swallowed hard and looked away.  
  
"See you later." He muttered to Crabbe and Goyle who were stuffing their mouths with crispy bacon. They grunted slightly in answer and did not bother to watch Draco exit the Hall, giving Potter a scathing look on the way.  
  
Malfoy crossed the entrance hall towards the dungeons. The grey stone lamps roared as he past, illuminating the various pictures and hangings. He made his way swiftly around the labyrinth of passages, his destination edging slowly closer.  
  
At last he reached a patch of bare stone wall, the entrance to the Slytherin common room.  
  
"Foxglove." He commanded and the stone slid away revealing the entrance.  
  
The common room was a long, low, stone walled chamber. The gothic pieces of furniture, including dark carved chairs and cabinets, reflected those in Malfoy Manor. An impressive fire burned ceaselessly underneath an ornate fireplace. Draco edged nearer, feeling the chill of the underground. The room was deserted.  
  
The scrape of the stone entrance moving echoed around him. He turned around and saw the dark head of the Lennox girl.  
  
Her nightshade hair was splayed behind her and her eyes caught the light of the flames. Draco was taken aback.  
  
"That was quick." He said accusingly, disguising his surprise with annoyance. She raised her fine eyebrows at him.  
  
"I eat quickly." The sarcasm cut through him like a sword. She moved forward, past the rigid Malfoy and settled herself on one of the comfier chairs, sensing his apprehension.  
  
Draco turned his pointed face towards her again. Her blue eyes met with his grey, however, she looked down and drew out a small leather bound notebook from somewhere. She selected a page and started to write with a pencil.  
  
"How's your father?" She asked simply, feeling his eyes upon her.  
  
Draco was momentarily disturbed. "Fine."  
  
He watched her, feeling alarmingly confused. Her legs were crossed, the right one tapping in tune with the sound of the graphite on her page.  
  
Malfoy's hand gripped the back of the nearest chair. He was going to ask what his father had failed to answer. Before he could open his mouth, she looked up at him again.  
  
"Something you wanted, Draco?" She had a way of making him feel that she already knew everything.  
  
"Yes." He said adamantly, taking a seat next to her. "Yes. I want to know," He paused, searching for the words to express his thoughts. "To know *why* you are here." The end result seemed a little lame.  
  
She regarded him quietly before answering.  
  
"While you, Draco, have spent your time here creating rumours with Rita Skeeter," Her voice was low and drawling. "Others, have been working on something more *worthwhile*."  
  
He frowned again, feeling insulted. His voice became quite defiant. "I take it you didn't like those articles."  
  
"Amusing. But they served little purpose in the long run." She was still writing which annoyed Draco.  
  
"What are you writing?" He asked trying not to reveal his own curiosity.  
  
She put her pencil down and once again placed her dark blue eyes upon him. "When is Lucius coming?"  
  
Draco coughed in disbelief. She smirked maliciously. "How do you.?"  
  
"I know a lot of things, Draco Malfoy." She cut in, her face twinkling.  
  
He felt spooked out.  
  
"Tonight." He said quietly. Draco looked at her again but Rowan was giving the fire the benefit of her gaze.  
  
She purred quietly. "Perfect."  
  
"What's going on?" Draco asked uncomfortably.  
  
In a flourish she drew the pencil from her lips, snapped the notebook shut and stood up. "You'll see."  
  
Draco watched her walk towards the common room exit, almost colliding with the rather lost looking Crabbe and Goyle. 


	3. Meetings

Meetings  
  
The room was cold, dark and dank. It reeked of misery. A kind of scent that made any normal person gag, sickly, creeping and slimy. Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes around his surroundings and suppressed the urge to shudder.  
  
A long, dry, scaly python curled tantalizingly around his ankles, hissing softly. There was little light. A blue tinted flame glowed in the grate but no link to the outside light could be found. The floor was dusty and had foot and slither marks cut into it.  
  
The black throne like chair seemed out of place in such a dowdy place. In it sat his master. The black hooded shape seemed to fill the room with its presence, but he could only see his eyes. Those fear inspiring, blood- curdling, merciless red eyes.  
  
When he finally spoke, his voice was raspy as though a great weight was pressing upon his throat.  
  
"You want to know, Lucius." He stated - there was no question about it.  
  
"Yes, my lord." Malfoy replied, dipping his head slightly. Even though Voldemort was half-hidden, Lucius felt as exposed as ever.  
  
"Then you should know," The snake tightened slightly. "That they are back, Lucius. The daughter is on a little job for me."  
  
"A job, my lord?" Malfoy asked tentatively.  
  
The light in the eyes went out for a moment, as though he had closed his lidless eyes.  
  
"Indeed." Came the voice again. "Speak to her, give her what she needs, Lucius."  
  
Lucius was uncertain what he meant but he knew, by the finality in his master's voice, that it was time to go.  
  
************************  
  
The treetops of the Forbidden Forest were silhouetted against the evening sky, creating great palisades of foliage. Chilly air brushed against her ivory skin. She crossed her arms around her chest, attempting to block out some of the bite.  
  
She strained her eyes against the darkness, an ideal cover for their plans, but she could see nothing. The wind whipped around her too, blocking out all sounds. This was annoying, she thought to herself, dragging her out here into the cold and then not showing up. Typical.  
  
Then she felt it. On her shoulder, a short, sharp pain.  
  
She wheeled around and found her eyes fusing with harsh pewter ones.  
  
"Jesus!" She swore out loud though the gusts of wind carried her voice away.  
  
"What?" Lucius Malfoy frowned, trying to comprehend what had been said. His silver staff in his out stretched hand.  
  
Rowan sighed. "Silencium vendrida." She called and at once her voice became audible.  
  
"What did you do that for?" She said to Lucius Malfoy, who was still taking in the appearance of the new addition. He could just make out the silver and green stripes of her tie, underneath her black cloak.  
  
"Pardon?" He asked in a confused manner.  
  
"Creep up on me." Rowan replied still feeling annoyed. "You could have, oh I don't know. Just don't do it again. Ok?"  
  
He raised his eyebrows at her, his arrogant nature showing through. But instead of arguing or retaliating he simply said. "If you wish."  
  
Rowan softened slightly at his response, looking down for the first time.  
  
They proceeded to walk around the outer borders of the darkened forest, speaking in low tones as to not disturb any of the beasts that dwelt within.  
  
"Why did you not attend?" Lucius was talking about their master's rebirth, last summer.  
  
Rowan paused, wondering how to phrase her answer. "It was not right. No. It could have jeopardized my work this year."  
  
"How?" He asked curiously. The youngest of the Lennox family intrigued him more than he would care to admit. She slid her dark, penetrating blue eyes into his, giving him a look of hidden depths. "That would be telling." She said teasingly.  
  
They continued to discuss things for another fifteen minutes, the sky deepened to yet another shade of purple. At last Rowan looked at her silver watch.  
  
"I'd better go." She said dreamily. "Draco, will be getting jealous." Smiling wickedly at Lucius she turned and started to head up towards the main castle.  
  
He looked thoughtfully at the ground his hand finding its way back to his chin. "Wait." He called back to the fifth year student. "How much should I say?"  
  
Rowan looked back over her cloaked shoulder and said softly. "However much you believe will entice him. Night, Lucius." With that she disappeared into the folds of the night.  
  
************************  
  
Feeling even more vexed than Rowan, Draco Malfoy entered his dormitory. The abstractly shaped room took on the form of a serpent. His bed was at the tip. Passing the snores of Crabbe and Goyle he reached it and drew back the heavy hangings.  
  
To his surprise there was a scroll of parchment waiting for him on his feather filled pillow. He frowned and looked at it from both sides just to make sure it was nothing suspicious. Having quenched his fears, Draco unrolled it and proceeded to read its contents.  
  
// Draco,  
  
I have been held up and cannot reach Hogwarts tonight. However the news of Lennox's arrival is very interesting.  
  
She is part of a family that left for Albania just before the Dark Lord's demise. I would warn you Draco not to advertise the fact that I have written to you. She could be damaging to the new reputation that I have built up. Do not do anything I would regret.  
  
I warn you, Draco, there is nothing more dangerous than those whose true loyalties are well hidden. Be careful.  
  
Lucius. //  
  
Draco put down the letter with an indignant huff. "Be careful." He mimicked. "What does he think she's going to do?"  
  
He put the letter into his bedside cabinet and got changed into his nightclothes. As he pulled shut the hangings and settled down for the night, he vowed to find out what this Lennox girl was all about.  
  
"I'll find out..I'll do it.." He said sleepily as the world of dreams enclosed him for another night.  
  
%% Thanks for all your reviews! Please keep reading and reviewing because it really does make it worth writing. %% 


	4. Together

Together  
  
Monday morning dawned bright and early. As the Great Hall started to fill up with hungry students, Draco consulted his timetable. To his pleasure he found it was double potions with the Gryffindors. He smiled to himself, wondering what he could get Potter for this time.  
  
Rowan sat next to Pansy Parkinson, the pug-faced Slytherin seemed to cling to her. Rowan supposed it was because of Malfoy but she had little time to waste pondering the crushes of fellow students. No, her real work would begin today. Her potions lesson would be ideal cover.  
  
As the fifth-year Slytherins shuffled into the dank dungeons, an idea popped into Draco's head. He would sit next to Rowan, get the information out of her no matter what. The raven-haired girl put up no protest as he settled himself next to her on the same workbench. If anything, Malfoy thought she seemed slightly pleased.  
  
Professor Snape paced into the classroom, his robes billowing out behind him. His high necked tunic made he seem even more menacing. He moved his poisonous stare across each pupils face, while explaining about the Pertubation potion; A particularly venomous strain of the confusing potions. So strong a liquor that the recipient could be persuaded into believing whatever the administrator desired.  
  
The class promptly got on with preparing the various ingredients. They included stewed bat spleens that had to be chopped finely. Most people aired their disgust at the fact that they did not come precut. Snape weeved in and out of the workbenches scolding the Longbottom boy and praising the Slytherins on their abilities.  
  
Draco decided to get on with his pursuit. He quickly checked that Snape was back at the front of the classroom, far away from him.  
  
"Lennox." He said, drawling, his head leaned in slightly.  
  
"Yes?" She asked in a low voice, so no one around them would hear, also moving her head nearer his.  
  
"You didn't tell me your father was a Death Eater." Draco spoke out of the corner of his mouth, his thin lips barely moving.  
  
"Been speaking to Daddy, Malfoy?" She asked sarcastically. Draco felt his insides drop a notch. Rowan's eyes latched onto her ingredients. "I thought you'd have guessed."  
  
However Draco was not to be defeated. "You did not tell me." The urge for power and knowledge came through in his smooth tone.  
  
"Why are you so interested?" It was her time to ask the questions.  
  
"Because," He started to rub and piece of her sleeve between his thumb and index finger. "People with our beliefs," He looked into her eyes. "Have to stick together."  
  
A/N: I don't know whether to continue. Depends on how many reviews I get.. 


	5. Their Calling

Their Calling  
  
Draco had trapped her in a corner. Her skin glowed in the lamplight, eyes glinting. He held his hand to her face, lifting her chin. He raged inside. A need more profound than any other, he wanted the power. It was right. He wanted the danger, the excitement and the urge to rebel against his father. He desired her; the girl who came out of nowhere.  
  
She knew things he did not, things he wanted for himself. Behind her features lurked the same fire that burnt within him. Draco sensed it for the first time in his short life. She wanted it too. She had ambition and she had the will to get it.  
  
The acceptance came wordlessly. Together they were stronger. Draco could not explain it even if he dared to try. It was one of those mutual things that can only be fully understood by those involved.  
  
*********************  
  
Rowan's calling had come out of the blue. She had been sitting next to Draco in a transfiguration lesson, a Scottish voice droning on in the background. Her mind wandered out of the classroom and into the grounds. The wind whipped at the leaded windows and rain trickled down their panes. The trees swayed this way and that, in total contrast to the morgue like classroom.  
  
A sickly voice came into her head. "If it is right, do it. Do it quickly. Do not linger."  
  
Rowan blinked forcefully, trying to clear her head.  
  
"No." It whispered softly. "Do not deny it, my red one."  
  
Rowan swallowed. Her head filled with a bloody image. It was blinding, a green light, filling her mind. Something fell with a thud, then a chilling screech echoed round her. Rowan swallowed again, not daring to look down. A shape grew in the corner of her eye, dark and threatening. Her head jerked around in a panic.  
  
There was darkness. A void filled with emptiness.  
  
A second passed until the voice seeped back into her mind.  
  
"It will come.." He began again. "You must be ready.. You will be ready."  
  
Red eyes burned out of the black abyss.  
  
"Lord Voldemort will reward you, red one." With that the voice trailed away leaving Rowan more than a little freaked out.  
  
She opened her eyes. The sky was darker than before. To her astonishment the lesson was almost over. She looked around and her eyes met with startling green. She looked up and found herself staring at the scarred head of Harry Potter.  
  
He seemed to hold the gaze, frowning quite a bit. Rowan took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. However, Draco had other ideas.  
  
"What you looking at, Potter?" He asked slyly. Harry's eyes darted uncontrollably to Rowan and she saw he looked in pain, Draco raised his eyebrows.  
  
"What's the matter, Potter?" He spat. "Scar hurting again?"  
  
Harry frowned more. "Drop dead Malfoy." He picked up his bag and stormed out of the classroom with his red-haired friend closely behind.  
  
Draco gave a malicious laugh and collected up his stuff looking at Rowan, who was still staring at the spot where Harry had stood.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" He asked in a half-annoyed, half concerned way. Rowan snapped out of her trance in an instant.  
  
"Nothing, come on. Let's go get some..lunch." She said giving him a knowing look, motioning her head slightly. Draco looked over her shoulder and saw that Parkinson and some of her other girls were eavesdropping rather obviously outside the door.  
  
Draco softened and clasped his hand around her waist. "Come on then." He said loudly. As Draco passed Pansy, his wand brushed her robes lightly. He whispered something inaudible and carried on up the corridor with Rowan, smirking slightly.  
  
"What.?" Rowan started but was cut of by a piercing shriek.  
  
It was Pansy.  
  
She looked quizzically at him but he could only shrug, the smirk turning into a wicked grin. Rowan shook her head silently, biting her lip. The truth was Draco hadn't given her anything, well, just a little paranoia charm for good measure.  
  
************************  
  
Soon, the news of their relationship had got around the whole of school. Many rumors had been slung around, mainly by a rather jealous fifth year. Both Draco and Rowan were fed up.  
  
One person who was glad of the gossip was Harry Potter. Often he had found himself the butt of Draco's scheming, mainly because of Rita Skeeter's articles.  
  
Now it was Malfoy's turn to suffer.  
  
Harry knew little about the girlfriend. Rowan Lennox was just another silver and green uniform to hate. He had always said he would despise anything any Malfoy liked.  
  
Though Harry still could not get over that first time when their eyes had met. His scar had suddenly scolded him, like a bolt of lightening. A short, sharp, agony that no one around him could even imagine. But when he had opened his eyes, he had seen hers, filled with the same pain and confusion.  
  
Nobody had ever looked at him like that.  
  
********************  
  
A/N: Woah I have reviews!! Crikey I feel lucky to have such kind readers. Tell me whatcha think of this and I'll be very happy. 


	6. The Beginning

The Beginning  
  
A silvery shimmering filled her eyes, reflecting of glistening glass. The air felt sweet and humid. The heat of the bright sunlight shone around. Without warning a song of her mother tongue met with her ears. A pleasant, comforting tune that warmed her damp skin.  
  
It was her song and it made those dreams real.  
  
Like a trickling stream, the memory eddied away. Running further and further away from her out stretched hand. It lingered on the horizon, until it was gone. Washed away for another night.  
  
She was alone.  
  
Rowan opened her eyes with a start. She took in the heavy hangings of her darkened bed and could feel her body sink instinctively back into the welcoming coverings.  
  
It was that day. Today was the start of something special.  
  
***********************  
  
Her black shoes scuffed on the stone steps, making imprints in their frosty coating. Her breath streamed like smoke out of her mouth, it was chilly. The Hogwarts grounds would have made a good manor, she thought to herself, shame they had to turn it into a school.  
  
Her target was there already, just as she had planned. No words needed. The Malfoys were an intuitive lot.  
  
Long blond hair hung neatly down the back of the dark coat, his usual silver staff clutched tightly at his side. Lucius liked the forest.  
  
"Lucius." Rowan said formally, her voice slightly croaky.  
  
She saw him stiffen slightly. He turned one side of his pointed face slyly to the right. "You came then." He said icily.  
  
Rowan smiled gently. "Now, now Lucius." She moved nearer. "Don't make it colder than it is." Her sarcasm bit.  
  
He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. "How are you?" He asked as though he actually wanted to know.  
  
Rowan regarded him silently.  
  
"Fine." She said finally.  
  
Lucius sensed she seemed to be hiding something. "You're sure?"  
  
Her eyes locked with his.  
  
"Did you see it?" She asked quickly. Her eyes moved downwards. "No, you wouldn't have."  
  
"See what?" Malfoy asked rigidly.  
  
Rowan yawned shaking her head. "I'm sure you'll see it for real, soon enough." She gave him a knowing look.  
  
"You saw -- it?" Lucius was taken aback at the thought.  
  
She nodded, her blue eyes catching the light. "Yeah. Our Lord works in mysterious ways, my friend."  
  
Lucius smiled slightly. "Then surely that means..?"  
  
Rowan nodded, an excited look on her face. "Though, I'm going to have change tactics...."  
  
"Oh?" He asked curiously.  
  
"Hmmm, yes. Our catch will be harder to grasp than I had anticipated." She looked deadly serious.  
  
"Ah well... If I can be of any help." He bowed his head oddly. Rowan smirked inwardly at the sight.  
  
"You already have, Lucius." She cocked her head to one side, getting close enough to whisper. "Whatever you said in that letter, well." She looked up into his harsh eyes, biting her lip. "Gave Draco some ideas."  
  
"Really?" He asked, swallowing at the closeness of her breath.  
  
"Indeed." Rowan said innocently, turning away from him. "Your son has hardly left my side."  
  
It had worked.  
  
His hand reached out for hers, stopping her escape, how he burned. He felt the need. He had been taken. Lucius turned her to face him.  
  
"Tell me." He uttered.  
  
Rowan gave him a dangerously devious look. "Tell you?" She asked simply. "Tell you what?"  
  
He looked anguished; she delighted at the mental torture. Lucius moved his eyes over her delicate frame. He gripped her chin. "Tell me."  
  
She smiled against his hand. "What do you want to know Mr. Malfoy?" She cast her eyes over his face. "That your son gives me what I want?" She gasped as his hand trickled down her exposed neck.  
  
"That he takes me..?" Rowan breathed onto his nearing face. His free hand had gripped her back. She looked up at him; her own hand had found his silky hair.  
  
"He takes me to the brink of ecstasy. You want to hear that Lucius?"  
  
He did not answer.  
  
Lucius pulled her into closer contact with him, his body wanting hers. He grasped her face, firmer than before, his tongue edging round his teeth.  
  
Then it happened.  
  
His mouth was upon hers. Embracing the greed they personified. So raw almost painful. He was hungry for her, he needed her. She would not give her charms to Draco alone. No, he would not allow it. He wanted some of her too.  
  
Though she would not give her entirety into his grasp. No. Part of Rowan Lennox would always belong to her Lord. Forever.  
  
She pulled away, her pale skin flushed in the sudden heat. "Well," She said breathlessly. "I didn't know you had green eyes, Lucius."  
  
He gasped this time, not fully understanding what she had said. He gave her a puzzled look.  
  
"Jealousy is a dangerous thing, Lucius. You should watch yourself." Her face shone with pleasure.  
  
"Jealousy?" He spluttered indignantly. She nodded silently.  
  
"Don't worry about the help," She started. "I've just come up with an exceedingly envious plan." She winked at him, before crossing into the hidden shadows of the forest.  
  
Lucius exhaled slowly. An owl hooted softly from the castle. He did not know what he had just got himself into. Then his thoughts turned to what his master had told him,  
  
"Give her what she needs." He had said. Lucius Malfoy did not know quite what Rowan needed.  
  
But he wanted to give it to her.....  
  
A/N : Heylo, here's an advent surprise for you. Hope you enjoy and please do review... :) 


	7. And So It Started

And So It Started.......  
  
They say that in the greatest plots, it always the beginning, that first nudge, that is the hardest to complete. It seemed so easy to start with; a simple case of luring him out of his protected views and into hers. However, Harry Potter was a special case.  
  
Of course Rowan knew the story, she had heard her Lord go over it endlessly. Harry was the thorn in Voldemort's side. He had tried and failed no less than four times to drown his annoying bespectacled head. Each time the worm had slithered away.  
  
This time he would hit with stealth.  
  
Surely no-one could possibly suspect a fellow student. Not one that the great Dumbledore had approved himself.  
  
Yes, he comforted himself, with her cunning and wiles she could trap him.  
  
Rowan had paid a visit to the One late that night, hours after seeing Lucius. Unlike the Malfoy, she did not recoil at her master's dwellings. The dank surroundings seemed to fit perfectly with the deviousness of her proposed strategy.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy will tell you himself, my Lord, his child is indeed a great rival to Potter." She stood in front of him, her school robes slightly hidden by the cloak she often wore. Her dark hair held a blue tint that reflected her eyes.  
  
Voldemort regarded her for a moment, before saying, "You speak of Lucius often, my red one." He watched her placidly, "I worry that he may distract you." A small smile curved on his thin lips.  
  
Rowan glanced up locked her eyes with his, giving him the kind of look that told her master more than any sentence could. "Ah," He said knowingly. "Then you must not let that interfere, my child. No. Concentrate on my job."  
  
"Yes, my Lord." She reached into her robes for her wand, getting ready to apparate when he spoke again.  
  
"Oh and Lennox, do keep what I have said in mind, won't you?" She nodded and with a hushed "apparatus" returned to Hogwarts.  
  
************** The next Thursday evening, Rowan had suggested that she and Draco could go out into the grounds, supposedly to escape the gossip that followed them around, though Rowan had other ideas. Draco agreed and soon the pair were settling down underneath an oak tree.  
  
Draco smiled at Rowan and she moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Malfoy started to tell her about his father's latest exploits but she was only half listening to him. Her attention had been drawn away by the noises from the Quidditch pitch.  
  
Thursday, she thought, was Griffyndor's practice night. A good chance to attract Potter's attention, if ever. She cast her eyes upwards and saw several red spots streaking across the sky. One of them had to be him. It had to be. He was the seeker after all.  
  
"Row?" Draco nudged her. "Do you think he was right?" He looked down and saw his companion staring above them, obviously ignoring what he had been saying. Annoyed, he looked to where her gaze had settled. A small shot of anger shot pierced his stomach.  
  
He nudged her harder than before.  
  
"Ow!" She whined and turned herself to Draco. "What you do that for?"  
  
"I asked you a question." Draco stated simply, looking at her glowing face.  
  
Rowan purposefully ignored him, wanting to find out about her view. "Which one's Potter?"  
  
While Draco would often taunt Harry, he had seldom heard his girlfriend talk of him. It vexed him that she seemed so indifferent towards the scarred one but this sudden surge of interest worried him. "Why?" He asked suspiciously.  
  
Rowan smiled. "Just tell me, Draco." She knew the inner turmoil she had expected was happening.  
  
"I don't know." Draco said through gritted teeth.  
  
"On come on," She said softly. "You must have some idea."  
  
Teasing should be banned, thought Draco. He sighed and looked around for the fastest player. "That one there." He said dully, motioning with his hand.  
  
Rowan gazed up at the red figure and was genuinely surprised at his skill. "Not bad" She said in admiration.  
  
Draco was positively sulking now.  
  
"I bet..." He started but Rowan already knew what his response would be. She turned towards him, clasping the bony side of his jaw, and said firmly,  
  
"Don't...even.... think... about ..it." She smiled softly at him. "There are some things, Draco Malfoy, that are far more important than flying."  
  
He smiled playfully back at her, and as his lips sensuously met hers, Rowan  
  
hoped that Potter's Quidditch eyes were sharp enough to spot them.  
  
***************  
  
Harry was used to the grueling training sessions that Wood had forced upon him for the years he had been on the Griffyndor Quidditch team but Wood had left over a year ago and their new Captain George Weasly was lax to say the least on where and when they trained.  
  
This new laid back approach was welcomed by Harry, as this year he would be taking his O.W.L.S. and needed all the extra time to catch up with his increasing homework. It also meant that Harry's mind could wander more than ever when he mounted his Firebolt.  
  
On that same Thursday, Harry was soaring around the Hogwarts Quidditch, supposedly searching for the Snitch but something else had caught his attention. He had not noticed the two figures emerging from the castle but when the pesky little golden ball flitted in front of an oak tree, his eyes crossed with those of a Slytherin.  
  
His mind knew who it was before the name came to his lips. She was the one whose head had haunted his thoughts for the last few nights. Rowan Lennox. Yes, Malfoy's girl.  
  
Harry did not bother to catch the Snitch, just letting it zoom around him. Instead he watched the couple, fascinated. There is something mesmerizing about looking at people you know cannot see you clearly back, Harry thought.  
  
Her dark hair settled in brilliant contrast to Malfoy's white. They were kissing now. A knot in Harry's stomach tightened. It seemed painful. He turned away and decided to fly higher. Yet when they were out of his sight the picture still echoed around him. The knot became almost agonizing when he wasn't looking at them. Somehow his imagination was running away from him. But he could not go back and look again. He couldn't. But he had to.  
  
He wheeled the broom around, wind pressing his glasses further onto his nose. He thought he had reached the point where the couple were but when he looked to the ground they were gone, without a trace.  
  
He scanned the horizon and ground below him. As the realization that they were not there crept over him another revelation struck him.  
  
Quite what it was however, was not so easy to work out........  
  
A/N: Heylo again. Well I've had a busy time this last month with lots of exams at school and then Christmas. I hope you all had a great Holiday season and like this chapter.  
  
Tell me what you think and I might put another one up soon....... 


	8. Searching

Searching  
  
Harry lay awake staring up at the familiar maroon drapes of his four poster bed. So many times he had relived the sights and sounds of his life in this position that they all seemed to blur together.  
  
He knew he had do something. To do nothing would kill him. It was like an itch, painful not to scratch. He decided there and then that he would do it.  
  
The next day filled the dorm with pale light and Harry knew it was time for lessons again. Glumly, he realized it was potions. Heaving himself out of his warm bed with a creak from the mattress springs, he got dressed into his school robes.  
  
Breakfast was a the usual. Fried bacon, eggs and maybe a bit of oaty porridge. He felt closed off from Ron and Hermione, why he could not explain. Sure they asked him but he could not understand it fully himself. Even though he had spent most of the night trying to clear the mist fogging up his mind, a haze still remained.  
  
Harry chewed on his rasher, the coppery taste seeping up into his head. He was staring at a point in front of him, not caring about the frequent nudges Ron gave him. Suddenly he swallowed and blurted out,  
  
"I'll see you later." He put his fork down with a clatter and raced out the Great Hall, Ron gazing open mouthed at his friend.  
  
"What was that all about?" He asked his girlfriend, the muggle-born, Hermione Granger. She shrugged, looking just as puzzled as her red-haired companion.  
  
****************  
  
Harry raced up the spiral stairs, his hard shoes pounding on the stone. He knew what to do. He flipped the lid of his heavy leather trunk open with a grunt of effort. He rifled through the contents, searching for what he wanted.  
  
"Aha." He muttered. The yellow parchment crackled in his clasping fingers. He lovingly smoothed it out onto his bed, a book underneath. Dipping his eagle-feather quill into his green inkpot, he scrawled his note, making sure that it was easy to read.  
  
He sat back and felt his stomach churn upside down. Then it hit him. He looked at his watch and realized Potions would be starting at any moment. He hurriedly folded the note and pushed it into his pocket.  
  
Breathing slowly, as to calm himself down, Harry descended the stairs and turned right for the labyrinthine passages of the Slytherin's world. Torches crackled and his heart was beating in time to his footsteps. Adrenaline pumped throughout his veins, his breathing becoming heavier. Harry turned the corner. His eyes caught a glimpse of raven black hair.  
  
Drawing his wand and carefully aiming, Harry muttered, "Liberus Flexit." A Spellbook silently lifted from a schoolbag and hovered towards Harry. He caught it, and slipped his wand back into the folds of his robes.  
  
"Wait!" He called out loudly. "You dropped your book." Harry was panting slightly but not so much from running.  
  
The figure in front of him turned her head to the left of her, glancing over her shoulder. Harry caught another glimpse of her clear blue eyes. Rowan Lennox had a puzzled look on her face.  
  
"Harry." She said almost inaudibly but she did not sound surprised. He held her cold gaze for a moment before passing her the thick book. He felt his insides contract. Rowan simply looked into his eyes, Harry felt as though she knew his mind, but she said nothing.  
  
"I...err.." Harry started but stopped as he heard more footsteps behind him. Rowan shot her eyes behind his shoulder.  
  
"I better go." She said quietly. "Snape, you know, we'll be late." He nodded and let her drift down the corridor to the right door, without a backward glance.  
  
"What did she want?" Ron asked accusingly. He and Hermione had been watching from behind him, making Harry jump slightly. "Well?" He asked fiercely, eyes curious.  
  
"Oh, she um, dropped her book." Harry said with difficulty. Hermione arched her eyebrows. Ron wouldn't lave it.  
  
"Really Harry, I don't know why you'd want to help her. I mean she's in Syltherin." His voice sounded outraged.  
  
"Isn't she Malfoy's girlfriend?" Hermione asked suspiciously.  
  
"Yes." Harry said a little faster than he meant to. He could feel his neck reddening.  
  
"Oh come on." Hermione bustled them along the corridor and bungled them into the cold, stone walled dungeon where they would be incarcerated for the next two hours.  
  
* * * * * Starlight illuminated the classroom with an eerie blue light. Shadows exaggerated its contents, making the room seem so very different from its daytime self. It was chilly too. Harry's breath felt hot and clammy against his outstretched hands. The invisibility cloak was far too thin to offer proper protection against the cold.  
  
He glanced apprehensively at his watch. Three minutes past two. He supposed there might have been a problem. Perhaps she had been caught? Or had the dragon been too demanding that night? He shuddered, trying to push the mental picture from his mind. Why hadn't he brought the Marauders Map?  
  
He looked to the door but gave up and turned his attention to the swaying branches outside. Their forms made dancing patterns on the parquet floor. Without warning, the corner of his eye saw the door open and close. He held his breath and raised his eyes.  
  
There was nothing there.  
  
"Hello?" He whispered involuntarily. He waited with baited breath for a response.  
  
  
  
A/N: Ooooh a little cliffhanger there. Do you want my next chapter?? I'll have to see how many reviews I get. ;)  
  
P.S. Thanks to Jeanne for that last line. ( 


	9. Realisation

Realisation  
  
He clamped his teeth, making his jaws tremble. Harry wanted to know what was in front of him. A wild thought of a teacher crossed his mind momentarily, but was silenced. A voice resounded from the darkness.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Harry jumped at the low and seemingly apprehensive sound.  
  
"Who..Who's there?" He asked tentatively, feeling spirals of nausea engulf him.  
  
There was a breathless pause.  
  
"You?" Questioned the bodiless voice. "Where are you?" It asked again, before Harry had a chance to speak.  
  
"I'm here." He said curiously, checking his sides.  
  
"I can't see you." It teased.  
  
Harry could have kicked himself.  
  
"Oh, er right. Yea." He cautiously peeled the cloak, sticky from his nerves, off his head. "Here." He said.  
  
He was sure he heard a gentle sigh.  
  
With a twist of time and small fizz, Harry saw it. A figure had appeared only a few breaths away from him.  
  
"Harry?" It asked, amazed.  
  
"Rowan." He looked at the Slytherin standing two feet away. She looked back at him, her flowing hair glinting in the starlight.  
  
She frowned. A tightening sensation gripped Harry, he noticed the look of worry on her face.  
  
"What's up?" He asked, becoming all too aware of the nature of the meeting.  
  
A light seemed to die behind her eyes. They glared at him.  
  
"Why did you give me that note?" Her voice was hostile. It was his turn to frown.  
  
Harry's mind went blank. She continued to stare at him, her blue eyes penetrating every cell of his body.  
  
"What do you want?" She demanded.  
  
He looked hurriedly to the classroom floor and then back up at her. "I need to talk to you."  
  
She arched her eyebrows. "That, Harry, was clear." She shook her head. "But you can talk to me anywhere. Why choose the dead of night?"  
  
He clenched his teeth once more. "Because I do not want Malfoy to know."  
  
Rowan let out a shrill laugh.  
  
"Find out?" She looked contemptuously at him. "Harry, Draco will find out and when he does, it will be me who suffers."  
  
He looked puzzled. He had the feeling Rowan already knew what he was going to say.  
  
"He's not an idiot, no matter what you think."  
  
He saw a shadow of a sly smile cross her face.  
  
"Then why are you here then? Eh?"  
  
She paused, her face pondering.  
  
To Harry's surprise, she softened. Becoming warmer but still holding onto signs of anguish.  
  
"I don't know," She said plainly. "I have no idea." She shrugged. "Curiosity? I mean, you still haven't told me why I'm here."  
  
He launched into explanation without time for breath.  
  
"That look in transfiguration, a few days back. No-one has ever looked at me like that." He searched for her reaction. "You know something Rowan, and you felt something too."  
  
She had blanched. Harry pounced.  
  
"Tell me." He muttered.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Tell me." Anger rose unexpectedly in his voice. He went to grip her arm, but she turned fiercely away.  
  
"No, Harry." She scrambled around for a chair, slumping her body into it, her head in her hands.  
  
To his ears, it was nothing less than a cry for help.  
  
Realising his roughness, Harry chose a lighter tone. "I'm sorry." He said. "But you must realise, I need to know."  
  
Rowan said nothing. The usually confident girl had wilted to a nervous heap.  
  
Harry settled himself by her, taking in a gulp of her scent.  
  
She sniffed, and looked down at him. He saw the vulnerability apparent in her eyes.  
  
"I cannot tell you Harry. I shouldn't even be here." The desperation was too much for Harry.  
  
"But why not?" He asked.  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" She replied. His face was blank. "It's not just Draco, it's his father as well."  
  
"Lucius Malfoy?" Harry spat indignantly.  
  
"He's powerful. A lot more powerful than you seem to think."  
  
"Huh." Harry snorted smugly. "I lost him his House Elf a few years back, Rowan. He's easy." He saw the disbelief dancing around her face.  
  
"All the more reason." She muttered. Clearing her throat she began, "The Malfoys are my future Harry."  
  
"What do you mean, your future?" He held her wrist tightly, wondering if she really meant that.  
  
"It's all arranged." She said in a half sob, her voice wavering. "I cannot go against them."  
  
He could feel anger burning in his chest. "But you are by being here?"  
  
"Yes." She said, relieved. "Now do you understand, Harry?"  
  
He nodded slowly, his eyes on the floor.  
  
"If I tell you," Rowan started softly, "and they find out, I'll be for it, Harry."  
  
To be continued........  
  
A/N: Heylo, enjoy, tell me what you think. Rowan's POV next. ;) Please review and I'll do the nxt chapter double quick. 


	10. Clasps

Clasps  
  
************************************************************************  
  
"The Malfoys are my future Harry."  
  
  
  
"What do you mean, your future?" He held her wrist tightly, wondering if she really meant that.  
  
  
  
"It's all arranged." She said in a half sob, her voice wavering. "I cannot go against them."  
  
  
  
He could feel anger burning in his chest. "But you are by being here?"   
  
  
  
"Yes." She said, relieved. "Now do you understand, Harry?"  
  
  
  
He nodded slowly, his eyes on the floor.  
  
  
  
"If I tell you," Rowan started softly, "and they find out, I'll be for it, Harry."  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Rowan looked into the infectious green eyes, the idea that they belonged to Harry Potter scared her. This was the boy her master despised, the boy she was meant to hate, the one she was hunting.  
  
He was here, crouching next to her, all sympathy and worry. It would be so easy, she thought slyly, to just do it now. To get it over with, once and for all. He wouldn't even feel it.  
  
His pleads to find things out had brought her to this stage. The secret note in her book, the midnight meeting, the whole pretence; it was all perfect. He was playing right into their outstretched hands without a second thought. Rowan reminded to spend some time praising her master's plan, and to tell him about this very important night.  
  
"Rowan?" He said by her side. Ah, yes, I need something to tell him. Rowan thought quickly before settling on her usual tactics.  
  
"It started when I was younger." She composed her voice into a pitiful tone. "My father worked with Lucius Malfoy before he joined the Ministry." She looked back into his eyes.   
  
"They owned a warehouse business, yeah," She said, noting the bemused expression on his face. "Not very glamorous. Well, Lucius and his friends would meet up in one particular warehouse every Thursday, the same one that I organised. It was then it happened."  
  
She paused for suitable dramatic effect, hoping Harry was lapping it up. "I heard and saw things that Lucius would not want repeated."  
  
"What?" He asked quickly.  
  
"Things." Rowan replied emphatically.  
  
"Oh." She knew he was too enthralled to bother asking what.  
  
"Well he found out. Since then I've been under their control." She slid her heavy lidded eyes downwards. "My father left the business and moved us to Albania."  
  
"Albania?" Harry blurted out. Rowan knew what he was thinking.  
  
"Yes." She asked, seemingly puzzled. "I was there for three years but he found me again. It was only a few weeks ago, it already feels like years, Harry."   
  
He squeezed her hand tighter. "So that's why your with Malfoy?"  
  
"Draco? Yes. A convenient change from Parkinson." Her words were laced with bitterness.  
  
"That's why you came late? Because Malfoy wanted to keep an eye on you."  
  
She nodded silently. "I can not get away from them Harry. They're never going to leave me."  
  
"What if I were to help you?" Rowan suppressed her ecstasy at his outburst. Easy does it, she thought.  
  
"Help me?"   
  
He nodded eagerly.  
  
"But Harry, I'm, I'm in Slytherin. I thought you hated us."  
  
He had an incredulous look spread across his flushed face. "Any enemy of Malfoy, is a friend of mine."  
  
Rowan ignored the melodrama and smiled shyly. "Thank-you." She whispered and wrapped her arms around the boy. She could feel his body burning against hers. Her thoughts revolved around what she was going to tell her master.  
  
"I'll get you out of here.2 He said firmly, when they had reached the classroom door. Their invisibility aids already in place as they set out in opposite directions, their unseen bodies clinking against the shadowed floors.  
  
A/N: Hmmm, what do you think? I'd love to know, so review! 


	11. Satisfaction

Satisfaction  
  
It was three in the morning, the wind lashed against the brittle walls and rain dripped eerily into the chamber of horror that Lord Voldemort occupied. The Dark Lord had risen and was growing ever stronger in his cocoon, aided by the news of one of his loyal servants.  
  
Rowan Lennox had been there since her meeting with Harry Potter. The poor boy had fallen for her and her plan.  
  
An acrid stench like paint stripper caught in Rowan's throat as she got closer to Voldemort. He slid his thinning eyes over her, maliciously taking in every inch. She was the one who would win where all others failed.  
  
"You're sure he bought it?" He asked apprehensively, smoothing his scaled hand through her soft hair. She did not flinch, but smiled.  
  
"No, my lord," She began slyly, "But he will." The grip on her head contracted, the Lord's forehead creased into a disapproving frown. He was not satisfied.  
  
"My red one," Each word was spat out coldly. "I asked you to win him." Rowan could feel his nails digging into icily her scalp, but she stood her ground.  
  
"It will take time, my lord." He pulled her head back sharply at her words, until she could feel her bones elongating in bitter defence. He glared into her eyes, taking in their contents.  
  
"Time?" He asked severely.  
  
"Yes." She mouthed, her face too taut to blink. The hold relaxed and the Lord's anger diminished.   
  
"Very well." He murmured, releasing the scullion. As much as Voldemort needed the boy, he would not deprive himself of Rowan. She was far too profitable. No, it was much better to let her get on with it. Although he would need someone to maintain a close check on her. It was then that his mind settled on the mortal.  
  
"You're in luck my dear." He began shrewdly. "Your Lord is never so merciful. Give me your hand." He reached down for Rowan's left arm, leering at the confused look on her face.  
  
Meticulously undoing the sleeve's button, her pushed the fabric away. Glowing guiltlessly on the skin was their sign. A bold, bloody red skull with a snake writhing from its mouth lay there, aching to be touched. He extended his pale finger and pressed it onto the brand.  
  
Rowan looked away sharply, a white-hot streak of hate shooting up her arm. Her body convulsed involuntarily as he withdrew. The scar was now burning jet black, the flesh throbbing.  
  
"There." He whispered to her. "Start counting, my red one."  
  
Rowan, who had swallowed the urge to shriek and renounce the cause of her suffering, had no idea what he meant. Lewd images stained her spinning head, still sore from her master's fingertips. Just one touch could send into spirals of agony, yet she still followed him.   
  
She longed for a sleeping draft. Her eyes willed her mind to close down for the night. They were sick of witnessing the terror he inspired. Why did she put herself through it?  
  
However her subconscious jerked into viability as a figure materialised before her.  
  
The tall, broad shouldered frame and glinting locks were instantly recognisable. His hand cradled the silver staff he had used on her only nights before. And slowly, like the deliberate dripping of rain, Vodemort's punishment dawned on her.  
  
A/N: Hope you like, do review, it makes writing so worthwhile :) 


	12. Fickle Friends

Fickle Friend  
  
Realisation resounded around the darkened room. The rain still fell in big gloopy droplets, splashing soundlessly onto the ground. Their wetness seeping through the wood turning the boards a sickly yellow.  
  
The words floated through the air and sneaked into her ear.  
  
At once Rowan felt her throat tickle, aching for fresh air. But only the choking staleness of her master could be found. Her limbs were helplessly slack under the nameless curse. Her body knew before the mind could react. Any chance of fleeing, of escaping this death trap had already passed. What would her father say if he could see her now?  
  
Suddenly, as if she had already admitted defeat, her head lolled backwards. Her eyes shut and Rowan felt the uncomfortable heat of blood rushing through her tense body. She was a bundle of contradictions.  
  
The figure took a examining glance around that infamous room. Its stark plainness, the overwhelming drabbiness, it was not fit for a slave, let alone a Dark Lord.  
  
He saw his master stooped imposingly over something. He also felt that same clench, as Voldemort's smell struck him. He drew his head back involuntarily, noticing for the first time quite what the lord was next to.  
  
The flowing folds of a cloak, stuck together with rain, were visible. Hanging out from underneath, a pair of leather shoes with limp legs attached. Moving his inquisitive eyes upwards, he saw the recognisable pleats of a Hogwarts' skirt, the white cotton of a shirt, transparent with that blasted rain and if he was right, the green and silver colours of Slytherin house.  
  
A chill trickled it way down his spine like the water droplets clinging to the windows.  
  
"Ah, Lucius." The voice came from his master. "Nice of you to join us."  
  
Lucius Malfoy raised his eyebrows slightly, not quite sure what to make of the situation. "You, er, called my Lord." He answered stiffly. An illicit image had stealthily crept into his mind, distracting him. His eyes were still resting on the figure.  
  
Voldemort let out a low chuckle. The air seemed to flinch at the noise. "You wonder, Lucius, what is going on?" Indeed, the Lord had seen the image floating in his servant's head. "You think wrong. No foul play has taken place tonight." He raised the right corner of his mouth into a half smile.  
  
Lucius raised his head a fraction, still confused. Voldemort motioned for him to ask the question burning on his lips.  
  
"Then why..?" Lucius pointed at the lifeless schoolchild, his face frowning.  
  
Voldemorts face relaxed eerily. "Just Lennox." He replied casually, testing the servant's answer.  
  
"Rowan?" He spluttered indignantly, giving himself away. "But, but why kill..?" His face had transformed into a picture of disbelief. His mind was filling with fluid. He seemed to be drowning in his own theories. He felt himself cough, trying hopelessly to rid himself of the fog collected in his eyes. What had Voldemort done?  
  
That wry smile danced on the Lord's mouth. How he enjoyed seeing the Malfoy squirm under his own imagination. "Rowan, now?" He mocked joyfully. "My, my, we have become attached."  
  
Lucius felt his forehead furrow. He did not like this. An idea nagged at the back of his consciousness. What if Voldemort turned on him? I mean, he's killed the girl who was getting Potter, he thought quickly, why shouldn't I be next.  
  
The Lord, who was heartily enjoying see his thoughts unfold, put him out of his anguish. "I'm not about to kill you, Lucius. Calm down."  
  
For a moment he sounded sane, Lucius thought wearily.  
  
"In fact," He continued. "I haven't killed anyone... tonight." He added as an afterthought, seeing the sour face opposite him. "No, Lennox here has just had a little," He twirled his wand in his spindly fingers. "Something, applied to her. Just to teach her a lesson."  
  
The anxiety level dipped slightly, but Lucius was still uncertain. "Lesson, master?"  
  
"Yes. She thought it clever to go against me." Voldemort waited again for his reaction.  
  
"Oh," He said, tucking a strand of hair behind his upturned ear. Voldemort felt Lucius' confidence levels returning. "Why on Earth would she want to do that?"  
  
Voldemort shrugged sweetly. Their smug expressions locked together in a cesspool of malice. On his own Lucius Malfoy was nothing, but when he had his master's support, past ties did not matter. He would stand and watch his own mother's face contort with the back-bending pain he inflicted, if his master willed it.  
  
He thought he was an individual. But Voldemort could see that Lucius Malfoy was one of the most addicted crowd followers of them all.  
  
"My Lord?" He asked again, trying to snap Voldemort out of his daze.  
  
"Yes, Lennox had a meeting with Potter this evening." He reached down and smoothed her hair, letting each of the dark strands slip between his pale fingers. He peered into her blank face. "The Corparius curse." He whispered tenderly. "So very very useful."  
  
Lucius shifted up and down eagerly on the balls of his feet. The damp floorboards creaked rhythmically. He raised his eyebrows wanting more information. "Well?" He asked, the tip of his tongue meeting the corner of his mouth expectantly.  
  
"She spun him some story, about you in fact." He looked up at Lucius, then slid his eyes over the girl. "It seems you like your Malfoys, red one."  
  
Lucius could not help the feeling of satisfaction seeping through him. He knew he had got her all those nights ago. Although his master's fickle behaviour concerned him more than he would care to let on.  
  
A/N: Review and I'll be very happy. :) 


	13. Journeys

Journeys  
  
The carriage bumped up and down along the dirt track. The wooden wheels jerked uncomfortably and the sound of the creaking suspension met with Lucius Malfoy's ears. The coach was unashamedly old-fashioned but so was its owner. He refused to use modern transport methods just as he refused to compromise his beliefs.  
  
Apparition would have been tricky, he had a valuable cargo after all. He slid his gray eyes down the leather-padded sides, worn with his use, over the pale figure of Rowan Lennox.   
  
Her nightshade hair was splayed out behind her head across the soft seat opposite Lucius. Her eyes were shut tightly, their dark eyelashes folded below the lids. The bridge of her nose elegantly cast a shadow over her right cheek, which glowed with the moon's light outside.   
  
His eyes rested on her, his mind wandered away, into distant memories he longed to capture again. The profile of the girl was not so unfamiliar as he might let on. Lucius had seen it before, the girl's mother held the same charms and yet, there was something different behind those closed lids.   
  
Rowan had her father's mind. Indeed her upbringing differed dramatically from her mother's. Rowan had been bred for a life in the dark arts. Since she had been born the Deatheater's values had been pumped into her. Her father had got what he wanted; a child twisted into the shape he desired that would worship the same ideals and serve in the same noble cause as him.  
  
Her father had been a close servant of Voldemort, of an equal level to that of Lucius. So close that he had insisted Voldemort attend Rowan's naming ceremony. Lucius had heard that the event had been less like a Christening and more like a drawn out initiation to the Deatheater circle.  
  
Looking freshly at the girl, it was difficult to tell her real nature, though he supposed that was why she was so suited to Voldemort's latest plan. Her "innocence" was well constructed and he had heard Potter liked dark haired girls.  
  
Lucius snorted conceitedly before slapping his hand dully to his forehead.  
  
"Potter." He muttered. "At Hogwarts." He swore loudly, cursing himself for not thinking about it before. He looked hopelessly around for an owl but it was no good, Draco would have to wait until his father reached the Manor for news of his girlfriend.   
  
Rowan's cheek took on a pinkish tone as the first light of day filled the carriage. The shadows floating on the walls were stretched somewhat painfully, curving over the quilted leather. Lucius pushed his hand into his cloak, recoiling slightly at the cold. He drew a weighty pocket watch from his waistcoat, feeling the chain clash with the smooth fabric.  
  
The solid silver instrument had a similar flavour to that of his staff, set with emeralds and boasting a flowing engraving of entwined serpents. Her nimbly flicked open the front with a slight click. The sweeping hands pointed to the certain Roman numerals. It was quarter to seven.  
  
Within minutes the vast turrets of his manor became visible. It sat proudly in the countryside surrounded by a mixture of evergreen and skeletal trees. As the carriage wheels crunched juicily into the gravel, Lucius cast his eyes in the direction of his bedroom window.  
  
The heavy drapes hung down and Lucius knew full well that his wife was still cradled in sleep's embrace. The light scurrying sound of incompetent servants became apparent, he instructed them swiftly, clearing his path towards the grand entrance.  
  
Without a second thought he scooped up the placid body and climbed down. His taught black shoes scuffed, coating themselves in the dust. For once, he did not care, simply continuing his journey deeper into the manor.  
  
A/N: Nxt up, find out exactly what Mr. Malfoy is up to, that is, if u review..:) 


	14. How I wonder

Her head spun into a dizzy daze. She could see light ahead of her, a bolt out of the darkness surrounding her. Great casms of black space with a flash of lightening.  
  
She was dreaming. That same sickly sweet aroma of nights before filled her senses. That same lilting song seeped into her open ears.  
  
She wanted to reach out and grab it, embrace it, hold it close to her. It was like a comfort blanket that was always out of reach. Always in front of her but never quite there. If only she could catch it in a vial, being able to open it at any time like a juvenile music box. But something told her that freedom was too far away to simply reach out and clasp.  
  
Rowans heavy eyelids stirred. They flickered open wearily, shying away from the real world. Her dream was pulling her backwards into that soft amicable environment, dragging her away from the harsh reality.  
  
It was no good.  
  
Her eyes made a second attempt to open.  
  
This time it worked.  
  
Reminiscent of a newborn lamb emerging from its mother, its head cowering away from the daylight, Rowan cautiously peeled her eyes open. She expected a wave of sunlight to blind and maim her. There was nothing except a low burning orange glow to the left.  
  
She thought it was early, far too early to even consider getting up. Her eyes drifted away, back into her head. Today's timetable trickled before her, she reminded herself that she still had another hour and a half of Transfiguration to go.  
  
It was the most boring of lessons, mainly because there seemed no point in being able to turn mice into teacups or bats into paperweights. If you wanted a teacup or a paperweight why not just buy one? Who would want to drink tea from a mouse anyway?  
  
She amused herself with this rather random thought until a little niggle started to grow in her brain; She did not remember getting into bed.  
  
Her eyes were still tight shut, her head was in a confused state. She mulled over her confusion slowly. Bed, yes she was in her bed, because she saw the light from the window. It was unfamiliar because she never got up that early. That explained it. Or did it?  
  
She knew she had to be there, where else would she be? Well, there were possibilities but she could not remember seeing Draco last night either. So if she was not in his bed then she must be in her own.  
  
Her confidence levels grew and she decided to test her theory once more. She forced her eyes to open again, they did so feeling a bit sticky. She quickly became adjusted to the light and managed to get her bearings.  
  
Looking up, she expected to see the heavy drapes of her four-poster, its dark wood frame and a new more pinkish glow.  
  
However, she did not.  
  
Instead there was a cold, smooth ceiling made of some sort of grey stone. There was no framework, just vast open space. Tilting her eyes to the left she saw the same orange glow, now joined with the aroma of decay.  
  
She froze, feeling a chill grip her limbs.  
  
Straining her memory to produce some reason for her circumstances, she concentrated very hard on a spot above her. There was nothing. Her ability to recall events had taken a nosedive.  
  
Frustrated she let out a low sigh. It whistled through the dank air, making her pause to watch its effect. Eventually she let her mind wander back to the sharp profile of Draco. It settled there, luxuriating in his imaginary presence. A warm fuzzy bloom grew in her stomach, but like all good things it came to an abrupt end.  
  
Just as she was moving into yet another prospective position, she noticed the room they were in. It was a classroom, but not just anyone. She recognised it from somewhere, even in her fantasies. She blinked down hard, Draco vanished but a scrap of inspiration struck her sharply.  
  
Green eyes shone from the darkness and she settled on one name; Potter.  
  
She had not been with Draco but with Potter. Now, that would explain it, she though triumphantly. Haha. She had figured it out, beaten the memory barrier blocking her view.  
  
Yes she had met with him, in a classroom. He had fallen for her story - their story. She had told her master her plan, he had wanted to hear it and how it went. So if she had already seen Potter she must have seen him.  
  
A twittery feeling of unease snaked its way around her. She must have seen her master. She must have met with Voldemort last night, that was the only option.  
  
As though this answer was the key to last night's mind lock - it clicked. The dark damp room with its rhythmical raindrops, the creaking floorboards, the searing in her scalp and mark. Instinctively, her left arm clinched as the remains of master's touch were felt, biting at her veins.  
  
Her breathing became quicker, Rowan felt her heart pound heavily in her chest, making her stomach bruise and contort in agitation. Her eyes were filled wide with the image of the Deatheater he had called.  
  
As she eroded the pleasantries she found the blackened bones of the true events. He had cursed her, head had felt rushed, she could not hear, like dead. He had turned her into a living corpse, still but barely breathing - the Corparius curse.  
  
Now Rowan's mind went into overdrive, sights whizzed past her and theories built themselves into reputable fact. Voldemort had summoned Lucius because of his connections, she thought anxiously, he would take my body to my father - make some story up and that would be it. I would be dead.  
  
I am dead.  
  
She stiffened, trying to persuade her leaden limbs to stir, but they would not. There was only one thing for it, she thought, taking a shuddering breath she opened her eyes once more.  
  
The stone walls, low and heavy bore down on her, the orange glow remained the same and that rotting putrid redolence still permeated the chamber. The truth smacked her swiftly - a punch from the darkness.  
  
She was in a tomb, buried alive.  
  
Rowan was in her family vault and that was her mother lying to the right of her. This was it, dead before her death. Her mind spiraled downwards searching for a plan, a way out, grasping, snatching, and clutching at basic human strategies. She grabbed one, opened her mouth, sucked in as much of the rancid air as possible and prepared to scream her lungs off.  
  
An absurdly harsh blow smacked into her face. It stung and blinded Rowan, knocking her face onto the callous stone. She made out a relieved sigh through the bursts of anguish.  
  
Fingers fastened themselves around her chin, snapping it in the opposite direction. Her eyes were wide again, staying open against her will. The stinging slipped away as her torturer became apparent, looming from the murky shadows.  
  
Lucius Malfoy's angular face looked sternly back at her, a kind of burning glowing deep in his shaded grey eyes.  
  
Her eyes were filled with doubt, she spluttered, spitting his name with difficulty as his fingers gripped her mouth together. His left eyebrow raised with delight, a delicious look of satisfaction forming on his face.  
  
"Indeed, my red one." He said deliberately, looking for the reaction on his captive's face. It came with Rowan frowning slightly.  
  
He released his grip with a sly chuckle. Rowan took more big gulps of acrid air.  
  
"Wh.. you...but..what?" She stuttered, even more confused than she would be if her master was in front of her. "You!" She finally struck with indignation.  
  
Lucius, now seated next to her on the stone block, bending into her face, smile conceitedly.  
  
"Why, yes my dear." He deadened Rowan's refreshed questions by placing the tip of his right index finger onto her open mouth. Pausing to enjoy the sensation, he looked straight at her. "It had to be someone, Voldemort thought you'd appreciate it being me. After all, you are screwing my son - we have connections."  
  
He mused the credibility of his own joke before going on languidly. "You see, Rowan, you've been a very bad girl. Not at all what we had expected of you. No, no. You have disobeyed your master."  
  
Feeling the ripples of anger rising to the surface with his patronizing behaviour, she interrupted; "I didn't disobey anyone, and you know it." Her shout echoed throughout the chamber. Lucius' smile turned sour and another slap met with Rowan's cheek.  
  
Using his wand to tap out his speech he threatened, "You dare to interrupt? No, Rowan, you need to be taught a lesson."  
  
Rowan, whose limbs were stuck to the stone, could not comprehend what he was saying. She did not know where she was, why Lucius was threatening her or what was going to happen to her.  
  
She took in the structure of Lucius' wand; 14 and a half inches, mahogany, she thought. It was focused on her, its tip tickling her breathing space. Following her heavy eyes up it, she met with him.  
  
He was looking down it, at her, his thoughts hidden behind the steely pupils. He was smiling again, that smug vexatious smile that you just wanted to wipe off his irritating face.  
  
"Well?" She asked a little more boldly than she felt.  
  
"Well what?" He asked, putt off. It seemed Lucius had been knocked of his track. Distracted, but by what?  
  
Rowan snorted indignantly. She knew derision made the Malfoys mad and she wasn't going to give him an easy ride. If he wanted to become Voldemort's lap dog, fine, but he should definitely not expect her to take his shit lying down.  
  
"You don't have a clue what your doing, Malfoy." She taunted, her voice rising. "You're pathetic and two-faced. You don't know what you want. None of you do. You're a disgrace to our kind."  
  
Lucius paused momentarily. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively looking at her with such an air that Rowan could have slapped him right back. He smiled, his lips and eyes creasing.  
  
"Oh Rowan," He hummed. "Rowan, Rowan, Rowan. How little you know." He tapped her shoulder patronizingly, allowing his eyes to travel down her body, still clad in its Hogwarts' uniform. "I know you too well, my red one."  
  
"Don't." She whispered, almost inaudibly, trying to shift away from him. But this only made Lucius more conceited.  
  
"Don't what?" He asked acidly. "Remind you of the truth? Or is it that name you dislike?" She flinched. "Ahh yes, my red one." He repeated. "I'm sorry Rowan, did I scare you?" He let out another low laugh. "Honestly girl, you should be over that by now, you're far too sensitive." He lengthened the last words, brushing his left hand over her.  
  
Rowan realized she had stopped breathing. She gulped, noticing the way her chest was rising and falling much quicker than before.  
  
Lucius watched her carefully, absorbing each little squirm under his experienced hand. He smirked lavishly, preparing his next attack.  
  
"You see, my dear, your master decided to put me in charge of you for a while. He has far more important things to do than keep naughty schoolgirls in check." His hand had reached the edge of her skirt, it was circling tantalizingly making Rowan feel both desire and annoyance.  
  
She lifted her head slightly, her limbs still frozen, she spoke. "No Lucius, this has nothing to do with Voldemort."  
  
He stopped abruptly, taking his hand away from her leg and whipping it around her neck. He drew his head into the space created, making it stick out from his body in an odd fashion. "Really?" He asked silkily. "What is it to do with then?"  
  
She could feel his hot breath meeting with her face. The answer was twirling around her mind, but she dare not emit it. Why? Because Lucius Malfoy was getting too close for her liking. He was running his hand through her hair, peering at her, her stomach twisted into a knot.  
  
"Stop it." She said firmly, tensing. Lucius frowned sarcastically. "Oh come now, I know what you're thinking Miss Lennox." He did not stop. "You are wondering why I'm not ravishing you right now, aren't you? You're just waiting for me to slip my hand here, right here." She felt him placing his hand onto her leg again, moving it up towards the hem of her already short skirt.  
  
"Come now Rowan, don't be a bad sport. After all, you are in my control now, my red one." 


	15. Wonder where I am

The sweaty odour that now permeated the underground chamber made her nose wrinkle. Her limbs felt weak and shivery, an after-effect of Voldemort's curse. She was now curled up in the foetal position, he face turned away from her captor, who was pacing around her with an oddly satisfied look.  
  
Malfoy, who was enjoying the whole experience, threw his gaze over the girl. He felt no guilt but pleased that he had got what he wanted. Rowan was looking a little less sleek than before, but that could hardly be helped. What did surprise him was her apparent lack of enjoyment, Lucius knew that he had been somewhat forceful, but she had made no attempt to protest, in fact she had said nothing.  
  
He decided to voice his concerns. "Are you all right?" He asked ever so stiffly.  
  
There was no response from Rowan.  
  
Lucius strode over to the figure, his footsteps echoing around the sealed stone. He approached her from behind, kneeling down so that they were on a level. He half nestled his head into her hair and neck, placing his right hand upon her shoulder.  
  
"Why so quiet?" He asked softly, stroking his left index finger on her neck. He felt a shiver ripple down her spine.  
  
"Don't" She whispered feeling her throat sticking uncomfortably.  
  
"Mmmm?" He queried gently.  
  
"Don't start being nice to me." She said, more firmly. "You don't have to."  
  
Lucius, who, it was fair to say, was a little taken aback by her comment, said nothing. Although his finger still stroked rhythmically.  
  
Rowan, who had been keeping her take on the day's events silent, soon felt the urge to voice it.  
  
"This hasn't got anything to do with me. Has it, Lucius?" She shifted her body, sitting up for the first time. Her muscles felt weak and unused. However her eyes had become adjusted to the orange glow but she was keen to find out more about her surroundings. How many people could say they had seen inside a tomb while still alive?  
  
Looking around the chamber she took in all there was to see. The smooth stone panels, the orange glow and even the stone like block where their deed had been committed. Her darkened eyes rested there for a moment, replaying a scene from hours before. She felt a sharp shot of pain and realised with a start that she had bit her lip.  
  
Trying to discard the coppery taste enveloping her mouth, she turned her gaze to the rest of the vault. There was little there, just stone and stone and more stone. This stone was harsh and unlike any she could remember. It might have been the dull lighting but there was something wrong.  
  
If her idea of being in a vault was correct, then there seemed to be a distinct lack of evidence. Sure there was the sickening smell of decay but ironically a vital part of the vault was missing. There were no bodies.  
  
Rowan looked around again, a frown forming upon her brow. Lucius looked uncharacteristically uneasy, checking his silver pocket watch and pacing around like a caged animal. She looked past him to the wall; here she saw a crest carved into the stone. Her eyes narrowed, she became curious, swinging her legs around and slipping off the block.  
  
She slinked over in Lucius' direction, brushing past him slightly until she reached the correct wall. Bending in closer she saw all she needed to see. It was a simple thing; two identical serpents wrapped together, their heads facing in different directions. It was the Malfoy's crest.  
  
Huh, she thought sourly, a derisive smirk forming on her lips.  
  
"What?" Lucius asked self-consciously, turning to look at her quickly. She just shook her head, feeling a small laugh forming. Lucius asked the question again.  
  
"I thought you'd put me somewhere else, that's all. I didn't realise we were in your basement!" He heard her giggle childishly. However she did not stop there. "You want to be careful, your wife might hear you." She turned around slyly, an urge for revenge overpowering her. "How is Narcissa these days?"  
  
Rowan leaned back against the cool wall, enjoying the effect. She looked up at the strong-shouldered man who seemed to be holding his tongue. "Always the way, eh, Lucius. Never satisfied are you?" He lifted his chin slightly, looking down his nose at the girl who was still smirking.  
  
"It's all about you and your power games." She said, smoothing her hands through her hair, trying to undo some of Lucius' handiwork. "I know all about you Mr. Malfoy." She raised her right eyebrow. "All about you and my Mother." He did not flinch. "How you pursued her relentlessly, how you never left her alone and how she chose my Father over you."  
  
Rowan's eyes hardened, she went on with even more conviction. "You could not have my Mother, so you have me." Lucius took a slow breath, the mention of Rowan's Mother biting at his spine. He noticed the way her eyes never left his own. Yet he said nothing.  
  
"You despised my Father, and all because my Mother wanted him. Lucius Malfoy just can't stand being rejected." She looked waspishly up at him, her confidence growing. Rowan did not notice the light dying behind his silver eyes.  
  
"You know nothing about me." He snapped acidly, showing emotion for the first time.  
  
"I know more than you would like." She teased him cruelly moving off the wall and getting closer. "You're too late." She noticed the way a muscle in his cheek twitched as she spoke.  
  
"What do you mean?" He asked quickly, swallowing hard.  
  
Rowan's face lost some of its malice. "She's dead."  
  
Lucius blinked, "Dead?"  
  
Rowan nodded, silently clamping her jaws together to block out any stray waves of grief.  
  
"When did this happen?" He asked solidly, not really wanting an answer.  
  
"A while back. Long after you left, if that's what you're wondering." She had dropped her eyes and moved back from the man, turning her body from him. The talk of the past unsettled her, though she had the feeling Lucius wouldn't push it.  
  
He cleared his throat. "I, well, I'm.."  
  
"You're sorry?" She asked sarcastically, forgetting her head. "Whatever for? You have it all; your wife, your son, Voldemort, me." She finished duly, her hair falling in front of her eyes for a moment. She looked up defiantly. "What were you planning to do, send an owl to my parents describing what you were doing to me?" She could not help releasing some of the anger pent up over time.  
  
Her words were partially ignored by Lucius. He was too wrapped up in understanding how he missed the fact her mother was dead. They did, however, remind him of the owl that Rowan would have to write later on. He turned as well, casting his eyes around for his bag containing parchment, quills and ink.  
  
He busied himself in setting them up on the stone block, which was at the right height for someone to kneel at. Lucius could not let the news of her Mother's death cloud his mind, he had to get this done as quickly and as correctly as possible.  
  
"Here." He said briskly, moving his head towards her. "You've got to write a letter." Sensing that Rowan was about to interrupt, "Before you say anything, it's to Draco." He raised himself back up and moved stealthily over to her, placing his hands onto her shoulders and whispering tenderly into her ear. "Do it for your master, my red one."  
  
Immediately she jolted away from him, her body going rigid. "Just do it." He ordered heartlessly. He pushed her, his hand between her shoulder blades, onto the floor. "Tell him that you're going to be away for a bit, that your sorry and that you miss him terribly."  
  
"How about the fact his Father just slept with me." She said dryly, the pain in her knees making her eyes water.  
  
"Tut tut tut." Lucius said sarcastically. "So you did enjoy it. Well now, Rowan, if only you had let me known earlier." He smirked. "Yet I do believe my dearest son would be a little alarmed if he knew. Perhaps we should save the father/son times if you two get married."  
  
She blinked through the tears, wondering if he had heard him right. "Excuse me?" She asked blankly.  
  
"Oh you heard me right. He won't mind then." He smiled politely.  
  
"No, Lucius, if we get married? I'm sorry but where did that come from?" Her pain was forgotten all Rowan cared about was getting the truth from him.  
  
"Draco's marriage. You did not know? It has been arranged for years!"  
  
"No!" Rowan wheezed, any power draining from her.  
  
"Well Draco needs a pureblood, someone to produce some decent heirs. It seems you two have already had a head start." He chuckled to himself. "Get on with the letter girl, I haven't got all day."  
  
Rowan, who did not know quite whether to jump up and down in wild frustration or to sob silently, faced the block. For all she knew, Malfoy could be bluffing, in fact she was pretty sure of it. If the man had no clue that her Mother was dead then any knowledge of arranged marriages seemed a little unreliable.  
  
In front of her was a smooth parchment sheet, an inkpot stained black with slippery contents and a noble eagle-feather quill. She recognised it as being like the one Potter had, how odd that two wizards poles apart in beliefs could pick the same stationary.  
  
Flipping the lid from the pot, she dipped the quill into the pot, tapped of the excess ink and began to write scratchily onto the parchment.  
  
Dear Draco, I am sorry if you could not find me today. I am afraid I have been called away on some urgent business. You will have some idea of which I speak but must understand that I cannot go into details for risk of Ministry interception. Anyway, I am unaware as to how long I will be absent. It might only be for a short while, say another day or two or, as I deeply fear, longer.  
  
If anyone asks and I mean anyone Draco, tell them my Father is ill. I had to rush to his bedside and so on. I'm sure you will be able to embellish satisfactorily on that. I am awfully sorry Draco.  
  
You may hear from your Father. You will know where he is now, he knows little so do not quiz him about my whereabouts. It is for a great cause, my dragon, one day you will be more thankful than you are now for our work.  
  
Worry not, and keep up our pride, Love, Rowan xxx 


	16. Food for Thought

He sat opposite her in the carriage, his fathomless eyes dancing upon her fragile body. Her eyes were down in such a way that one can never tell whether the person is asleep or just looking down. Either way, it did not matter. While Lucius was in control of Rowan he was going to look and examine every particle she would offer.  
  
"Stop it." She muttered, raising her head to meet with him.  
  
He raised an eyebrow innocently, "What?"  
  
"Looking at me." She said.  
  
"My dear, I'm afraid in such a cramped space there is little else to rest my eyes on."  
  
"You should've got a bigger carriage Malfoy."  
  
The corners of his thin mouth flickered, he bit back any replies, the lack of sleep and answers catching up with him. She was like her Father, he thought irritably, defensive and conceited. He would have to play her carefully to get what he wanted.  
  
**************  
  
The screech owl swooped elegantly down onto the Slytherin House table. Even among the wild frenzy of morning post, the bird stood out from its fellows. It was a Malfoy owl - bred to the same point of racial purity as the family themselves.  
  
The recipient of its letter looked up at its characteristic cry, the same penetrating sound that shuddered through the Manor's labyrinthine passages and halls. As he had suspected, his Father's owl settled gracefully in front of him where it proceeded to perch proudly sneering at the ruffians before him.  
  
"Dahl?" Draco quizzed softly, unclasping the parchment from the silver ring. Looking from the bird to the letter, Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows, he smoothed the bronze feathers absent-mindedly.  
  
It was Rowan's script, scratchy and distinctive. He peered cautiously up and down the table, making sure she wasn't just late. He knew how she liked her sleep, so her absence from breakfast was simply due to a little lie-in, or so he had thought. Nevertheless he approached the start of the letter with faltering uncertainty.  
  
************ The scenery swished by in a haze blur of green and blue. Rowan was becoming restless. She did not comprehend any thing. Why was Lucius "controlling" her? Where were they going (he had said something about an important errand)? Lastly, why were they in this godforsaken carriage that bumped and ground along the tracks like something from the seventeenth century?  
  
Some of her exasperation must have shown on her face, now wearing two delightfully dark shadows under her dull eyes and a blooming purple bruise near her jawline, as Lucius said sarcastically, "If you don't like it you can walk."  
  
She did not reply. His wand sat in his lap, his fingers and hands clasped lovingly around it. Smoothing out imperfection was a daily ritual, whatever the item. She had seen enough of that wooden stick to last her a lifetime.  
  
"When this is over," she thought dreamily, "done and dusted with the brat rotting somewhere, I shall fly. Fly out of this trap and go back to my motherland. There I shall reside free of Voldemort's beatings, out of any Malfoy's way and back among those whom I love. This is country is not my future. I would never have come here out of my own free will. It is dark and dirty and cold. Though I will prove myself, my Father will know that I am capable of what he wanted me for. He will find out. That will be it. After Potter, there will be no more jobs. I shall go back and live a peaceful life."  
  
"Are you sure you can cope with that?"  
  
Rowan jumped, her sight darting to the man. "What?" She mouthed silently.  
  
He raised his eyebrows, speaking very slowly. "I said are you sure you can deal with that?"  
  
"With w..what?"  
  
"With being responsible for Potter. Honestly girl, what's the matter with you?"  
  
She stared blankly back at him.  
  
"W..what?"  
  
He sighed exasperatedly. "Pot.ter"  
  
"What about him?" She asked quickly.  
  
"Will you be able to handle it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Killing him."  
  
"Oh." She said a little too quickly, "Er yeah, of course."  
  
Lucius shook his head, long locks catching the light, and drew out that morning's issue of The Daily Prophet. He settled back into the padded leather and busied himself on catching up with all the latest Ministry exploits.  
  
Rowan's heart beat furiously, her chest bouncing up and down with such ferocity that she swallowed just to make sure it did not leap out of her body and onto the seat. She could just see something like that happening to her, having her heart leave out of frustration only for it to lay pounding, oozing thick red blood, on some surface until it was freed from life.  
  
She knocked her head on the wood above her but did not jerk away in pain, simply allowing that dull aching feeling it spread through the middle of her head, creeping its way to her temples where it beat a rhythmic song.  
  
The pain did not bother her, she had been exposed to the Cruciatus curse too many times to call a knock on the head painful. No, Rowan had thought for a moment that the man in front of her had heard her inner monologue, her private thoughts kept for her mind alone.  
  
It would have meant an end to everything, if he or anyone else for that matter knew precisely what the little Lennox girl planned to do then she would be as good as dead. Never would Voldemort risk such valuable resources and information getting into the wrong hands, he was not that stupid. If it was not for him, then no one else was going to be privy to it.  
  
She took in a deep breath. The air tainted with horse and leather as her ribcage expanded and diaphragm flattened. She had been so fearful a moment ago but now she realised her panic had been a moment of irrationality. Lucius Malfoy was many things, but a mind reader? She thought not.  
  
********  
  
"Embellish satisfactorily?" Draco though quizzically. "I'm meant to know where Father is? He knows little? Then why is Dahl here? The cause?" Yet he was pulled from thinking any deeper.  
  
"What?" He bellowed at Goyle, who had been tapping his sleave.  
  
"Your sausage?" Goyle said thickly through a mouthful of breakfast, gesturing with his greasy fork. Draco frowned slightly, looking form the gormless face to the plate in front of him. Twigging, he sighed frustrated, like father like son.  
  
"Can't you think of anything other than food? For once?"  
  
But Goyle was already busily engrossed in his latest meaty conquest, not listening to Draco for love nor money. Casting his gaze over the Great Hall, out of boredom and for want of a few answers, he came across Potter.  
  
The celebrated boy, his hair messy and unkempt, was looking at the Slytherin table, an absent expression in his face. Draco followed his eyes to wear he was staring and found them to be on the little gap in the seating that his girlfriend should be sitting at. He looked quickly back at the boy, his jaw clamping to the top row of teeth. Harry continued to look but shifted uncomfortably as though he knew someone to be watching him. He too looked around and seemed startled to fix with the silvery blonde profile of Malfoy.  
  
Nevertheless he peered at Draco, his forehead head furrowing. Draco stared stonily back, secretly unnerved by Potter's odd behaviour, he had never looked at him for this long without throwing an insult or even a withering look in his direction.  
  
However, for the second time that morning, Draco was hauled from his thoughts. This time by a sharp peck from Dahl. He looked back at the owl, wondering what it wanted. Dahl was holding out its leg, the one with the silver parchment clasp on it. He wanted to know if Draco wished to reply.  
  
"Fine." He said. "Come on." He got up from the bench and made for the doorway, Dahl promptly followed though keeping a good distance between them. Draco headed for the dank dungeons and his Common room in search of writing implements. He did not even laugh at the alarmed screams of his peers, scared by the streamlined swooshing of his Father's animal behind him  
  
*******  
  
"Where are we going?" She asked sleepily, a yawn punctuating the end of the sentence.  
  
Lucius did not look up from his paper. "You're tired." He said in a most un- paternal fashion.  
  
"Where are we going?" She said in a monotone. This time she was met with the crinkly sound of folding newspaper. In a swift movement Lucius had fluidly switched positions. He was now leaning forward, leering at Rowan with a half-twisted smile etched on his face.  
  
"That's for me to know and you to.." He started sardonically but stopped abruptly at the look of pale indignation on Rowan's face. "You know," He paused as though searching for the correct choice of words. "You may not believe this but I do hold a certain amount of respect for you Rowan."  
  
She said nothing; she was waiting for the punch line.  
  
"You," He reached out tucked a stray piece of dark hair behind her ear. "So young and tender. You've taken on a big responsibility, my dear, and to be alone with it as well." His warm hand cupped the left side of her cool face. "It can't be easy."  
  
She looked at him, her eyes locked onto his by his own gaze. She had never seen him like this, not even when he had forced his heavy body into hers, never had the contours of his face seen so, so, she could not describe it. Never had his eyes seemed to soften, to melt into stores of molten metal. Never.  
  
But that was the point, he never behaved like this, ever. So why would he start now?  
  
The answer came to her in waves; her mother. She pulled her head away from his hand, not quick enough to hold onto her. She let out a long low sigh and closed her eyes, hoping that this time his actions would be smoother or failing that, faster.  
  
********  
  
Harry hurried up the stone stairs, his school shoes scuffing the floor in dry rasping movements. He clutched at his quill and roll of parchment tightly. How he had got to the point of risking life and limb by being late for Transfiguration was complicated.  
  
It had begun earlier that morning, much, much earlier. He had been lying awake replaying his meeting with the girl he had been thinking about for reasons that were still partially hidden. She had told him things, things that worried and surprised him.  
  
So Rowan wasn't with Malfoy out of choice, a feeling of triumph seeped gloriously through him. Hah, the little weasel could never get a girl if his Father hadn't intervened before hand.  
  
But Rowan was trapped, unable to get away from those sadistic idiots. She needed help, his help, but had been concerned, scared even that they would find out. She said she would be for it, but quite what that meant remained a mystery. All Harry knew was that Rowan had caused a great lack of sleep that night.  
  
When he had emerged later on and had made his way into the Great Hall he had expected to see Rowan seated near Malfoy. Yet not only was her place empty but Malfoy was looking shifty as well. Did he know? Surely there had not been enough time to do anything to serious?  
  
However Malfoy had left with such vigor that Harry followed quickly. He had the beginnings of a plan worked out. He would demand to know where Rowan was, to know what Malfoy had done with her and to leave her well alone.  
  
As he got closer, his courage building in great rich swells something struck him; Malfoy would know. He would know all about Harry. Of course he might already know but if Harry did accosted him then one, Malfoy would know for sure leaving no possible excuses, two, Rowan might just be late or asleep even.  
  
So this was why Harry Potter was heading to the owlery when he should have been turning another animal into an object. He would write to Rowan, Hedwig would find her and be sure not to give the letter to anyone other than Rowan. Plus, if Harry was making a mountain out of a molehill by overreacting it would always show Rowan that he was very serious about wanting to help her.  
  
He sat down among the straw, droppings and regurgitated skeletons and began to write.  
  
*********  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I am not. We're different people."  
  
"Don't be so sure, from what I've heard you never saw her and yet you're still.."  
  
"You know nothing." She spat angrily.  
  
"I'm not blind, I know what's in front of me." He said silkily, his hands gripped around the tops of her arms.  
  
"You're mad!" She said quietly looking up at him. "She is dead Lucius. Dead. Gone. Forgotten."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes, and having me is not going to bring her back or change the past." She recoiled edging further away from him. "This is one thing you can't control."  
  
She was shaking, fury rippling its hated path throughout her. How dare he? Once was enough but there was no way that she would let him get his hands on her a second time, not when he thought she was her Mother. She shuddered, not considering the mental stability of the man behind her.  
  
Lucius had his teeth gritted, a manic look on his face, red and bloated through his bellowing. "She is not dead." He thought determinedly. "She is not dead." He hung his head between his knees breathing deeply. He had to regain some form of calm, otherwise it might be him that Voldemort decided to get hold of.  
  
He could remember it vividly, that surreal meeting, that time when she had promised himself to him. Given herself completely. She had had it all worked out; she would leave Anthony, run away from him, free herself from his clutches and he, Lucius, would simply break off his engagement to Narcissa, their marriage would be one of convenience. It was all going to be perfect; they would never have to sneak around again, they would be free to do as they wished.  
  
But it was never to be. What was their last meeting in England delivered news more oppressing than before; Anthony knew. He knew something, knew that Annya had been with someone else but he did not know whom. He had beaten her to within an inch of her life yet she had held her tongue and not given away Lucius. For that he thanked her, but to see his precious flower in such a state pained him. He was responsible for her agony.  
  
Though he had not expected the consequences. They were moving, leaving the country for her own; Albania. Anthony had said something about her own Father being able to teach her better marital values than him but what that meant, Lucius could only guess. Yet that was not the only mystery.  
  
Annya had told him that she was expecting a child; their child. The child that would prove to be his first born.  
  
What had become of the baby, Lucius could only wonder. It was unlikely that Anthony knew, he would not take back anyone who had betrayed him so viciously. But the baby had been born, it had definitely been born. Lucius had received a congratulatory owl, an obligatory custom that took place in the British Isles. That had been more than seventeen years ago on an autumn day, September 18th to be more precise.  
  
He shook his head, relieving his hands from his face and looking around the rickety carriage. The figure of Rowan Lennox was curled up to the left of him, her dark hair so reminiscent of Annya's, he thought sweetly.  
  
The idea hit his stomach solidly.  
  
He gulped, cleared his throat and asked the question. "Rowan, how old are you?"  
  
She turned her head to his very deliberately. "Seventeen."  
  
He did not take a second breath. "And when's your birthday?"  
  
"September 18th."  
  
*********  
A/N: Hello, hello. Sorry I haven't written to my lovely readers for a while. Hope you like the story, please review if you do :)  
  
Anyhoo, I apologise for not updating all that often. I've got my GCSEs this year (big lot of exams in the UK) it's all very scary and I have so much revision to do. But hey, surely fanfic writing is good practice for English? ;)  
  
Jeanne: I'm loving your fic! Well I hope this chapter creates some more mystery, goodness knows I have got enough in here!  
  
Cancerious: I'm glad you like my fic! The whole dark and brooding thing is really fun to write! Here's my update!  
  
Queen of the Stone Age : Here's some Draco. Yes I do love evil Lucius but he's got some food for thought now. 


	17. Names

Dear Rowan,  
I don't really know what to write which is stupid seeing as I'm here writing a letter to you. I mean there must be a point to it, right? Well, I wanted to check that you are okay. I didn't see you at breakfast and well, after last night, and what you said I became a little concerned.   
  
I thought the best thing to do would be send Hedwig then you will get this whereever you are. You can't be in too much trouble surely? I mean it would take time to get to Hogwarts and to take you to wherever, oh God Rowan, you have to be all right. I know I'm rambling, but they simply wouldn't have enough time, you can't apparate inside Hogwarts and well, just be okay.  
  
Perhaps I'm being paranoid and you were just sleeping in. Anyway, write back,   
  
Thinking of you, Harry.  
  
P.S. If I don't get an answer soon I'll ask someone discreetly, like my friend Hermione, I'm sure you know who she is, or maybe Dumbledore; he'd know what to do, he'd get them off your back. XxX  
  
********  
  
Rowan put the letter down, Hedwig hooting softly beside her. Lucius had gone, gone into another grand looking house, whose drive was playing host to his carriage. Well the house would have been grand if the windows were all in tact, the panes were cracked and dusted with the kind of sticky grime abandoned houses attract. The large dark doors, cracked and worn, creaked heartily when he had opened them. The medieval grey stone gargoyles looked even more twisted and deformed as they loomed down on the forgotten building.  
  
It looked like the kind of place Voldemort would thrive, or so she thought. That was until she caught sight of a rusting swing set in the garden, wild and overgrown. That would have to be removed, she thought sourly, he could not stand such an item, one that could bring pleasure to the innocent.  
  
Quite what Lucius was doing here, was a mystery, unless he was of course house hunting for Voldemort. If he was then she doubted this was his first choice, and not because of its cosmetic appearance. No, soon after his last outburst, he had ordered the coach around, and away they had sped, off in another direction.  
  
Another surprise was the lack of security. He had done or even said nothing as he slid out of the carriage. Rowan was expecting some sort of binding hex to hold her into position as he went about his business, but there was nothing. Lucius Malfoy seemed to be loosing his touch.  
  
Her attention turned back to the owl, it wanted a reply. To buy some time, she re-read the letter. "He doesn't half go on," She thought. "What? No apparition in Hogwarts? I'd have thought he would have worked past that one by now. Precious Potter, too blind to anything even a little dark. Hermione?" She frowned, not too sure who he meant." But Dumbledore? Hell. That would be it, another way to a quick death."  
  
She would have to write back, there was no avoiding corresponding with scar-head. Yet she had no quill; she'd have to wait for Lucius. How Rowan hated relying on other people. If you wanted something done, then do it yourself, that way any mistakes were your own fault.  
  
Sighing, she arched her neck out of the window, midday sun shortening all the shadows, which was just as well; the place didn't need anymore scariness. There was no sign of the man; he had shut the door behind him. He hadn't even knocked. Which he could have done, seeing as there was a big silver doorknocker in the shape of a lion's head. It was tarnished and less majestic, with one of its great teeth chipped. For some reason, Rowan felt a strange affinity with it, the kind of feeling that you get when recognition dawns on you. Yes, she had seen something like that before, but it wasn't quite like that one. It had been gold and in much better condition, but that had been in Albania somewhere.  
  
Pushing the thought away carelessly, she settled back into the carriage seat, wondering what to do. She needed a quill, Lucius had one, but quite how long he was going to take was a mystery. For all she knew, he could be hours and by that time Potter might have blabbed to Hermione or worse to the interfering twit of a Headmaster and her plan would be in tatters, as would her reputation and, undoubtedly, Voldemort's faith in her. Christ.  
  
Hedwig flapped her wings and a thought occurred to Rowan. "Hah! So Transfiguration does have its uses. But I shall need a wand if this delectable bird is to become a quill." Of course Lucius had hers; he did have some sense. She mused for a moment, and then settled on a thought. She had done it before, or rather had seen it being done before, that was performing magic without the use of a wand. After all, a wand was simply a means to refine and channel your own magical energy. For example, only wizards and witches could use wands, give them to a Muggle and they might as well use them for firewood. The power came from within and this was a last resort.  
  
She sat up, smoothing her skirt, her uniform now disgustingly dirty. She cleared her throat and looked intently into the owl's big orange eyes. Taking a breath she placed her right hand on its head, closed her eyes and concentrated. "Stylus incartae."   
  
There was nothing left underneath her hand and so Rowan opened her eyes hopefully. It was a quill, not a very normal looking one, but there were definite quill qualities to it. It had a nib, a brown metal one, it had an ink supply, which looked vaguely normal and it had feathers, a bit too many but there is nothing wrong in being flamboyant. Sadly though, it had feet.  
  
Well, claws, but nevertheless they were feet all the same. Rowan winced as she looked at her experiment. "Hmmm." Luckily for her, Hedwig no longer had a head as her fingers would have been in danger of being pecked off. She grasped the animal quill, reasoning that all quills were made out of birds, and started to write on the back of Harry's letter.  
  
********  
The Lennox house was filled with musky aromas, dank and dusty. It had not seen a scrap of undiluted sunlight for years. The whole place reeked of decay. Inside was more lavish than the Malfoy's house, sweeping staircases at either side of the entrance hall and what would have been a glorious stained glass window if it had not been boarded up was at the very end of the space, lay before his eyes.  
  
He moved quickly, knowing where to go up the right-hand-staircase, where to turn left into the bedroom, its bed stripped bare, the posts looking skeletal in his wandlight. He moved along the paneled walls, feeling his way with his ungloved hands until there. Until his hands met with the invisible crack, he pushed his fingers deeper into it, feeling the wood pressing into his nails. Lucius tugged and with a small jolt, the wooden panel swung open, revealing stones, worn and riddled with sand markings, he counted along from the right to five and removed the appropriate stone.   
  
Behind it was a small space, layered with dust and little stones, he scrabbled around in it before curling his fingers around what he had been looking for. He grasped it to his chest, thanking some unknown person that it was where he had been told.  
  
He put the stone back and reattached the wooden panel, even adding some dust with his wand. Turning, he swiftly left the bedroom, not noticing the green slit-eyes glowing under the bed.  
  
********  
"There," Rowan said out loud. "You'll do nicely." She rolled up the parchment but stopped at the sound of the great doors slamming shut. She looked out of the window again and sure enough, Malfoy was making his way towards his transportation.  
  
He climbed easily back in and almost choked. "What on Earth is that?"  
  
He was looking at the quill who was running around attempting to flap.  
  
"Harry Potter's owl." She answered dryly.  
  
Lucius frowned, momentarily distracted by his new discovery. "What did he do to it?"  
  
"Uh, well it's more what I did to it." She said, blushing.  
  
He looked blankly at her. "It arrived with a letter from Potter, I needed to write back."  
  
"So you mutated some poor owl?"  
  
"Potter's owl." She said defensively, thinking that it somehow deserved it.  
  
"What was the rush?" He asked.  
  
Thinking it would be easier to just give him the letter, she passed it to him. He scanned it, an amused look playing on his face. "I see. You wouldn't want the Mudblood interfering now would you? What are you going to write back?"  
  
She motioned for him to turn over.   
  
*********  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I am okay. I am not at Hogwarts, in fact I'm not sure where I am. Lucius Malfoy came for me last night, he took me somewhere and now I'm stuck in a carriage outside some house, not his. I am not hurt, or in any immediate danger so please do not tell anyone. I fear that if you do, something terrible will happen. Do not speak of me to anyone, Harry. Think of your own position, think of who other people think I am and how they would react if they knew you were helping me.   
  
You say nothing of Draco, I take it you haven't spoken to him. If you do see him, please don't do anything Harry. He might tell his Father and well I do not believe that me being away has anything to do with our meeting. As strange as it may seem. If you do then well, they'd know and I'd be as good as dead.  
  
I don't know how long I shall be away. I do know that you are in my thoughts, far more than I thought you would be. We must meet again when I return. Harry, I don't want to be with the Malfoys anymore, I think I want to be with you.  
  
Look out for yourself,  
  
Love Rowan xxxxxx  
  
********  
  
"Quite the romantic, aren't you?" He said sardonically. "I suppose you'll want to send this off?" He frowned at the bird, sub-consciously wondering how any daughter of his could be so bad at Transfiguration. He stopped himself in the middle of the thought, muttering "Stylus illana." Hedwig reamerged and Lucius waved the letter onto her leg with a swish of his wand.   
  
She flew out of the window, leaving them alone. Lucius ordered the coach to return to his Manor and muttered something about "not wanting Malfoy". He grumbled to himself as he settled back into his leather seat.  
  
She was his daughter. How could he have been so careless as to miss it? So clueless? The answer was easy for him to understand, Rowan was so much like Anthony Lennox that any question of her paternity could have been dismissed instantly. And Rowan Lennox did have a better ring to it than Rowan Malfoy.  
  
He repeated the name over in his head, she would be called that if she did marry Draco. "Oh," he thought sourly, "She's been fucking her brother..Christ" Then the more obvious thought dawned on him." I had sex with her...Fuck That's fucking kinky."  
  
"What's the matter?" Rowan asked.  
  
"Nothing." He said quickly. "Just wondering how you could fuck that owl up so badly."  
  
He was sure she muttered something about "language".  
  
Lucius looked at her then down at the floor. "Perhaps it's better that she's going after Potter."   
"I didn't have a wand." She said.  
  
"Oh. Oh!" He said in realisation, delving into his pocket. "Here you go." He passed her the wand and she promptly looked it over. "That's a good wand, Rowan. Mountain Ash I believe, rowan in fact. Was that intentional?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "No."  
  
"Shame, would have made a good story. You know I'm surprised. Rowan is a wood favoured by the Light, it is hated by the Dark. And here you are, a Death Eater called Rowan with a wand of the same name. A bit ironic, don't you think?"  
  
"I didn't choose my name."  
  
"No? Who did? Mum or Dad?" He realised what he had just said.  
  
"I don't know. I never liked it, whoever chose it." She suddenly found she couldn't care less about the man in front of her. He was nothing to her. So what if he was keeping her for a while? The sooner she got back to work the better.  
  
"No? What would you have preferred?"  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"You know I named Draco? Narcissa wanted something ordinary like Charles or something like that but I don't think Charles would have suited him." He babbled on but Rowan was only half-listening.  
  
"I think Rowan is alright for you really, my dear. But if you wanted something different, why not try some other names?"  
  
"Like?"  
  
"Well now, something Latin, yes stick to the old languages. Beatrix? That was my Grandmother's name. Or Hebrew. How about Lilith? I believe that has something to do with serpents, which is rather appropriate."  
  
Rowan frowned, wondering why Lucius was so intent on choosing a name, mind you, she could do with a new identity. It looked increasingly likely that she may need one, if her plan was going to work.  
  
"No? While on L's how about Lucia or even Lux. That's rather delicious isn't it?"  
  
"You only think that because you're called Lucius." She said sarcastically, Mr. Malfoy could be quite a vain git when he wanted.  
  
He heeded her words and stopped. He had been trying to give her a name. "Good Lord." He thought. "I've taken this a little too far. But a daughter? Why didn't I know before? Don't think do you Malfoy." He looked at Rowan, his head tilted to one side. "She's mine." He thought softly. "She's all mine."  
  
***********  
  
As he lay in his bed, his wife asleep beside him, Lucius thought about everything. He thought about Annya, about her laugh, her smile, and the way her eyes would crinkle and sparkle. He thought of Anthony, of the bruises that Annya would show him, the bruises that Anthony would inflict on her. About his malice, his hatred for someone whom he was meant to love. He thought of it all, over and over.   
  
The face of Annya melted seamlessly into that of Rowan. They were so alike it was frightening. He thought of the bruises and of that on Rowan's young face. He bit his lip with a horrible realisation that he had been responsible for it. He had hit her, and hit her again, just like Anthony.   
  
But she did not know. Rowan was blind to it all. She did not know the truth. She did not know that her mother had loved him, had hated her Father and that her Father was not her real Father at all. He was.   
  
All the time his mystery child had remained a mystery. He had imagined all possibilities, that the child was dead, buried and gone. That it was in an Albanian orphanage, unaware of its true heritage, but never that his child was brought up as his enemy's. Never that. Not that his love was beaten and kept from their child. Not that she got no part in the child's growing up. Not that his child would be molded by Anthony Lennox into the girl that Rowan had become. Never that. Never that his child would become a servant to his own Master, equal to himself. Not while he was still alive at least. And never that his child would be able to drive him into such a state that he had to force himself upon her just to get what he wanted. He never thought that could happen. Never.  
  
But it had. It was all true. It was fact.  
  
Rowan was not a Lennox but a Malfoy. She belonged with him there. Where he could watch over her, where he could sculpt her, never too forcefully, allowing her to develop as she should. Any Malfoy would have a natural curiosity in The Dark Arts, there was no need to force it upon them, unless of course they refused. But she was a Death Eater. She was his eldest child. She was his.  
  
Yet it could not happen. It could never happen. Rowan would never be able to simply exist alongside Draco and Narcissa. She out shone Narcissa by too much, his wife would become jealous and bitter and Draco had always thought of himself as the eldest. Even if he got rid of his wife, he could not have her there. She was still Anthony's, loyal to him and her master alone. She was also illegitimate.  
  
So even if she found out that Lucius was her true father, she would not be able to claim anything from him. And if she found out then Anthony would be sure to find out too. He would find out he been bringing up Lucius' child as his own. He would have no choice but to disown Rowan. He would abandon her, leave her to fend for herself with no chance of social acceptance. She would become a pariah.  
  
It was a Catch-22 situation. Yet as his daughter slept in one of his guestrooms, he could not help pretending, just for a bit, that she was home for good. Back where she belonged.  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Wow! Reviews! Yeay, I love my reviews! *Hugs and kisses* I'm glad you like that chapter, I do feel guilty at putting the characters through this but this fic is going to get darker.  
  
Jeanne: Kool! I adore that snake idea, in fact you have inspired me to add a serpent into this fic, it was going to be an elf but well, you'll find out more in the next chapter. ;) As for Draco knowing who Rowan was, I think our girl must have informed Parkinson and she would have told as many people as possible. Never underestimate the power of gossip!  
  
As for her feelings towards the Malfoys, well they've certainly changed. Of course she doesn't know about Lucius or Draco, thank God, you can imagine how she would feel. But as I said before this is a dark fic and involuntary incest is just one part.  
  
With Harry, your picking up right ideas, she needs to lure him into Voldemort/s clutches some how. But whether she really does want him will remain a secret, for now. ;) It is very ironic but I'm pleased it is in different ways, I'm liking Draconis too much to see anything that foul happen to her. Xxx  
  
GothicMuse13: I like your name a lot! Thanks for starting to read the fic, I don't know when or if you'll see this message as you reviewed chapter 7 but thanks all the same :)  
  
Cancerious: Yeay! I'm glad you saw that Lucy was the good guy, it will be very important later on ;) It is pretty disgusting but if you think about this kind of thing happens quite often :( Thanks for the good luck, I think I'm going to need it! I have 25 pages of Latin vocab to learn. :0  
  
Serenia-dreamer of the woods: My most loyal reviewer! Thanks for the compliments, I've never written to you personally! As for Watchers of Lorien, well it seems what with my exams in may and June I'm going to be way too busy to do any fic writing. I'm hoping to finish this story, there is going to be a sequel, but maybe before I start that I will complete Watchers. It is about time I got back to Haldir and Mr. Bow-twanger!;)  
  
totally_2bular_girl: Hey to you for the first time also! How long have you been reading my fic and not reviewing? ;) Yep it is EW but as I said before its dark and dirty and very unpleasant! Hope you're enjoying :)   
  
Xxxxxxxxx Aurelia 


	18. The Wishing Wand

The days slipped by them like the slow streaming of sand through the pinched middle of an hourglass. Time hardly ever passed quickly in the gloom of Malfoy Manor. It seemed impossible, as though the air around them was so thick with the bitter hum of dark magic that time had to force itself through.  
  
Rowan had spent these days sat on a carved high-back chair at the end of a long oak table. The setting for this scene was the room adjacent to Lucius' study, it was high ceilinged and seemed to be shaped by the arching beams above, much like the wooden boat like ceilings of olden day churches. Of course it was cold but that did not matter, Rowan needed everything she could to stop herself from falling into a trance of dullness.  
  
You see Lucius had decided to find out her plans and not just ones relevant to him. He had questioned her for hours on end, droning on and on and on without stop. He was obsessed. He asked questions about Hogwarts, about how she was getting on with her work and how she got on in Slytherin.  
  
He also went on about Potter, this wasn't surprising. The boy had made it personal with the loss of Dobby. Lucius reassured Rowan that the elf was not important, it was the boy's defiance that vexed him.  
  
"So you don't believe it then?" She had asked him, as he looked out of the window. He turned to her with an eyebrow raised.  
  
"Believe what?"  
  
Rowan sipped from the crystal goblet, containing some form of red wine. "That Potter's the one to rival him."  
  
Lucius let out a long, low, chuckle. He released the red velvet curtain from his elongated fingers. "Potter?" The derisive laugh continued. "A rival? Now, my dear," He paced towards her chair, his footsteps echoing hauntingly, after reaching his desired place, he slipped his hands onto her shoulders. "If you were looking for a rival to Voldemort, I would urge you to look a little deeper than Potter."  
  
Rowan did not answer, she was concentrating more on the closeness of his breath on the bare skin of her neck. He had given her robes while her uniform was cleaned and pressed. The hot air was laced with alcohol and tobacco, Lucius did not hold back within the privacy of his own grounds.  
  
"What do you mean?" She asked breathlessly. His hands squeezed.  
  
"That it takes more than a pair of glasses and a scar to be a rival." He smiled smugly and sat down next to Rowan, releasing his grip on her.  
  
She gave him a twisted smile back, a thought nagging. "But he isn't just that is he? I mean he's escaped Voldemort since he was one, he's the one he keeps on getting away. You were there last summer, you saw him duel."  
  
"Well you didn't and neither did Anthony." He practically spat the name, his speech already slurred in his half stupor.  
  
"I already told you, Malfoy." She returned his sourness pushing her head closer in to his. "It would have jeopardised my work."  
  
"Ah, yes I remember but you wouldn't tell me why." She began to speak but was silenced by his hand, now using his wand to pour more wine into their goblets.  
  
"Didn't Potter find us out?" Lucius frowned. "Well you were there, Malfoy."  
  
"He might have done."  
  
"Jesus, Malfoy, the only reason I can work on Potter is because he is too busy worrying about your son and the fact his Father is a Death Eater."  
  
"And I'm guessing, the fact you've been one for what sixteen years eludes him?"  
  
She withdrew, a wry look playing on her face and took another gulp of liquid.  
  
"Uhuh."  
  
"Well why complain?"  
  
"Well surely that's odd?"  
  
"Odd?"  
  
"That he isn't suspicious."  
  
"Now why would Mr. Potter be suspicious of you?" He said sarcastically. Rowan's shoulders slumped. "You are not on the brink of capture. Stop worrying. Besides you are with me at present, relax."  
  
"Exactly, I'm with you. What's that going to look like? I wish Voldemort would have thought his plan through before he decided to kidnap me."  
  
Lucius ignored her last comment. "You told Potter you were with me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He lapsed into thoughtful silence, leaving Rowan to cast her gaze over her surroundings once more. It was night time, late evening maybe. Yet Rowan found it did not matter, she could never seem to settle in this place, it was too dark. As odd as that might sound, Rowan did not enjoy or appreciate the deliberate displays of dark magic. Of course she had grown up with it, both her Mother and Father's families were well known for the dark qualities and no merger of the two would be any different. Her Father had seen to that. But it had been her way of life each dark curse blended into lawful ones easily. Though in Britain there was always some kind of ritual beforehand. Continentals just got on with it, accepting it and even welcoming it. Albania was a haven for anyone who wanted to practice the Dark Arts because everyone there did, Voldemort supporter or not.  
  
Well that was not strictly true, she thought. No, not all of Europe was Dark Arts obsessed, in fact it had quite a bad reputation. Durmstrang was a bit of a pariah located in some Eastern European country, even Rowan was not sure where. Eastern Europe had been tirelessly working to evade their reputation as a dark place, upping their own Ministries' regulations and Auror to wizard ratios. It had worked, to some extent, all true-blooded practitioners had gone only tourists who wanted t-shirts remained. It was sad but avoided the whole thing from becoming cliched.  
  
These days, supporters integrated into everyday society, they weren't all like the Malfoys which not many people appreciated. Thankfully Potter did not so those like Rowan could work on him without drawing too much attention.  
  
"You'll need more bruises, but not on your face."  
  
"What?" She had been hauled from her thoughts by Lucius' enlightened tone.  
  
"I have an idea, but it depends on how Potter takes it."  
  
"What?" She repeated, lost.  
  
"You tell him the truth, " He saw the appalled look on the girl's face. "Well obviously leave out the Dark Lord side but tell him the rest of it. You've already started to in your letter, just continue."  
  
She could see what he was getting at.  
  
Lucius continued to elaborate on his proposed idea but something soon became apparent to Rowan.  
  
"We shall have to tell Draco."  
  
Lucius looked right at her, his gunmetal eyes boring into hers. She could see that he was in doubt about telling his future heir.  
  
"Very well." He said a little stiffly.  
  
"You never know Lucius, Draco might want to sign up sooner than you think."  
  
************  
  
The Gryffindor Common Room was unusually quiet but Ron and Hermione had taken full advantage of the opportunity and got the most sort after seats by the warming fire. Harry, however, had been a little less enthusiastic. It had been three days since he had heard from Rowan and that was a long time if you were stuck with Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Of course Harry had said nothing to Hermione or Dumbledore. How could he but then again how could he not? He was finding with holding back this information difficult especially as Rowan was involved. But he did not want her dead.  
  
Her letter went round and round his head and he often found himself back in his dormitory rereading it. One point that nagged was her comments on her house. She was in Slytherin, the house he had wished not to be in years before. It had not seemed so important before yet somehow the nag would not go away.  
  
"Well he's in Hufflepuff; it's no wonder he couldn't stop." Ron jerked Harry back to reality. He looked at the boy wide-eyed, bewilderment creeping up on him.  
  
"What?"  
  
Hermione shook her head looking slightly annoyed at Harry's lack of interest. "My charms partner Stephen Moth, he hasn't stopped working on it."  
  
"It?" Harry asked blankly.  
  
"Our project on the banning of sound-blocker Charms. He's been in the library the whole time."  
  
"And you're no stranger to that." He answered dryly. She rolled her eyes at him. Avoiding her he looked at Ron. "And what's being in Hufflepuff got to do with it?"  
  
"Well they are the "hard workers" aren't they?" Harry raised his eyebrows a little surprised. "You know," Ron continued. "It's the house characteristics."  
  
"Oh." Harry replied, cottoning on. "Like the Sorting Hat songs?"  
  
Hermione replied definitely. "Yes. Brave Gryffindor, intellectual Ravenclaws, hard working Hufflepuffs ..."  
  
"And scummy back stabbing Slytherins." Ron finished, making Hermione give him a scathing look too.  
  
Harry sat up in his armchair, taking interest. "You don't believe that? It's a bit stereotypical, surely?"  
  
"Oh no." Hermione cut in. "The Sorting Hat is an incredibly good judge of character."  
  
"But surely not all Hufflepuffs are hard working or Slytherins back stabbing?"  
  
"What?" Ron spluttered incredulously. "Not all Slytherins back stabbing? What are you? Blind?"  
  
"He doesn't mean it like that." Hermione reassured him. "Of course there are variations otherwise there would only be four types of people in the country and it would be boring but on the whole, they share a lot."  
  
"But, well, surely, surely some people are different. You said Gryffindors are brave? Well surely we're only brave because we have to be. You couldn't say that no one else in the school is brave." Harry ignored Ron's snorts of indignancy and concentrated on Hermione.  
  
"Well that is true as well."  
  
"So you could not say that all Hufflepuffs are the same. He may only be hard working because he has to be to keep up with you. People are pushed into doing things like being brave or cunning."  
  
"But the Sorting Hat does not count what you are forced into. You would not be put into a house if you did not have its underlying qualities, it just does not happen. But if you were forced into being brave or cunning and you were not usually then you would only be put into the house that you would suit you."  
  
Ron let out a fake snore. "Why are you so bothered, Harry?"  
  
"I'm not." He said quickly. "I just think it's bad that because you're in a certain house you have to act a certain way."  
  
Ron shook his head and Hermione looked at him a little longer than normal. Harry squirmed a little under her gaze. Sensing his discomfort she dropped her eyes.  
  
**********  
  
The note was simple. It had arrived that night with one of the Malfoy's House Elves. This had amused Draco but he did wonder what his Father wanted.  
  
// Draco, I need you to meet me tonight at 11 o'clock in the Wishing Wand. Use you apparition in the place where I said, do not go straight into the inn but Apparate outside. It is essential that you come Draco. Do not be late. //  
  
Eleven? Then he only had twenty minutes. He swiftly changed out of his Hogwarts robes and into something a little more demure. Blacks would do nicely, he proceeded to redo his hair, slicking it back with a little potion. He needed to look his best for Father, otherwise he would undoubtedly get some awful lecture.  
  
So he set out to that particular spot in the Hogwarts grounds where a uncomplicated Dark charm could burn away any protective charms surrounding the School.  
  
********  
  
"You are sure?" The man asked hoarsely.  
  
"Yes, my lord." It replied in its hissing undertone.  
  
"Into the house?" He asked again, his words half disguised by a voice well used to tobacco.  
  
"Into your own room, my lord. Into a panel in the east wall, he removed something, I could not see what, my lord." The Parseltongue chilled the air it met with.  
  
"The east wall?" The man sat back and thought. "Laesym, was he alone?"  
  
"In the house, my lord but there was another in his carriage." The snake uncoiled and recoiled into a more relaxed formation.  
  
"His carriage? Now why would he have a carriage, Laesym? That is interesting. Have you any idea who was in it?"  
  
"A female and there was an owl, a white one, my lord."  
  
"Did you see her?" He asked quickly, silencing his cough.  
  
"No."  
  
"Very well. Thank-you Laesym, you serve your master well."  
  
The snake bowed his head slightly. "You wish me to tell the others, my lord?"  
  
"Ah, yes, do that and tell them to come to me with their news. Yes, but they must make sure they realise I will be on the move. It seems as though England has been missing Anthony Lennox for too long."  
  
********  
  
The Wishing Wand served as Malfoy Manor's nearest and most convenient wizarding inn. Nearest meant at least fifty miles away from the grounds but that was an advantage as any Muggles that happened to spot them would have no clue as to who they were looking at.  
  
Its clientele did vary from the vaguely wonderful wizards of the Home Counties to the more grotesque variety who would rarely allow themselves to be seen in natural daylight. Unlike the taverns of Diagon and Knockturn Alley, the Wishing Wand was not protected by anti Muggle charms. This meant that ordinary members of the British public were inclined to wander it at unpredictable moments. Therefore use of magic was very discreet, if there was any used at all.  
  
Lucius had chosen a corner table and had ordered two black espressos from Jackson, the bartender. He thought they would need them, one to regain a little sobriety after their wine consumption and two, he thought it added another face of sophistication. Rowan was already seated and Lucius insisted on bringing the drinks over himself, he did not need Jackson bothering him.  
  
After taking his seat Lucius flipped out his solid pocket watch. "He has five minutes." Rowan said nothing but shifted on the uncomfortable wooden bench. The inn was quiet, only a few leech like creatures hung by the bar and some witches in the opposite corner were present. She could see why Lucius had chosen it.  
  
She was a little apprehensive about telling the boy, he might be tempted to tell others. Lucius would certainly put a stop to any thoughts of that, and if Draco did wish to become a Death Eater then silence would have to become his best friend.  
  
The door opened and a bitter chill of cold air whipped around their ankles, the cool pointed frame of the youngest Malfoy stood in the doorway, the wind making his black cloaks dance behind him. Draco scanned the inn with his gray eyes, not giving away his anxiousness. His eyes caught sight of an icy blond profile, his Father was sitting in a corner and next to him was Rowan. His stomach dropped a notch.  
  
His eyes met with hers but she dropped them almost immediately. He drew up another oak chair and muttered a polite greeting to his Father.  
  
"Now, Draco, we are here for a reason." He looked sternly at his son. "It is too compromising for us to speak of it out loud, at least with me present, therefore I shall leave you soon. Rowan will explain everything to you. What she says is invaluable. I sincerely hope you will take on what she says, Draco."  
  
Rowan, who had kept her head down, shot Draco a quick calculating look. He was confused, a little cocky maybe but he was not as ready as she would have liked.  
  
"Right." Lucius drained the small cup in one, pausing to relish its flavour. He did not seem to notice the tension between the two students. Still he soon clapped his hand solidly on Draco's shoulder before doing the top button of his tailored travelling coat up. With a swish and sight of red satin lining the Malfoy had left the public house.  
Almost immediately Draco slumped in his chair, drew out a battered packet of menthol cigarettes, flicked the packet open and started to pull on one of the white tips but was stopped in his tracks. Rowan was looking at him silently, her eyes were burning into him, their fierce cold colour lashing at his pale skin.  
  
"Don't stop on my account." She said seductively. The silver dragon turned his head to face hers, slipping the rolled tube out of the packet with an accustomed ease. With the cigarette in his mouth, he lit it with a quick "incendio".  
  
"You want to be careful, there are Muggles around." She shot a quick look around the inn. Draco ran his hand through his hair, undoing his earlier work.  
  
"Fuck them, I need this." He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent to reach every fraction of his brain. The nicotine rush woke him more than his Father's words ever could. "So what's this all about?" He asked impatiently.  
  
Rowan thought it best to show him. She pulled up the fabric swathing her left arm, revealing the Dark Mark burning blackly upon it.  
  
"Ah." Draco whispered looking intently at the scar with his cigarette forgotten. "You're a Death Eater."  
  
Rowan quickly pulled her sleave back down, checking once more that nobody around them was watching. Draco still looked at the mark, his eyes seemingly boring through the fabric. His throat was tight, he swallowed, coughed slightly and looked up at her.  
  
"That's what you've been doing. You've just been initiated." He said in a shocked voice laced with what sounded like admiration and awe. The briefest of smiles flickered on his face.  
  
Rowan shifted uncomfortably, moving the stray piece of dark hair from her face, the strand that would just not stay in place. "No." She said quietly. "I've been a Death Eater for more than fifteen years, Draco."  
  
Now confusion spread its way over her companion's features. "I.." He started, clearly unsure of how to react. Rowan gave a weary smile, one that revealed the uneasy twitch in the pit of her stomach. "Calm down." She said softly. "It isn't that bad."  
  
"Oh no, " Draco began. "It isn't bad at all. It's good, very good. It, well, it's a bit of a surprise." He took another drag of his minty roll, tapping the long tube of formed ash into a red plastic ashtray. "You'd better tell me then, whatever this is about and tell it from the beginning."  
  
Rowan took a sip of the hot liquid and felt it awaken her refined sense of awareness. Now she would be able to tell the boy what he needed to be satisfied as well as keeping her other eye open for any hidden dangers. She would need to stay aware, for simply showing Draco her Mark meant incriminating herself but as she had reasoned, she would need his help as well as his Father's to get to Potter.  
  
"I was born in Albania, not Britain. I grew up there with my Mother's family. My Father is English but felt the traditions there would suit me better."  
  
"Traditions?" Draco interrupted. Rowan smiled to herself.  
  
"The Dark Arts are far more widely used. I was not confined to a Manor. Anyway, my parents moved before Voldemort fell, Father was still very close to him. As you know Potter got in the way of things, he was a setback, a thorn in my Master's side, but soon he shall be plucked out." Rowan became distracted by her own thoughts leaving Draco to sit enthralled by her words. She never bad mouthed Potter at Hogwarts, something that vexed him, and to hear her speak of her master was unsettling.  
  
"Anyway, after Potter, Voldemort fled to where we were, forests in Albania. My Lord had seen me before, in meetings with my Father, but I had not yet joined with them. I was around two by now."  
  
"Two? But that means you are."  
  
"A year older than you. So there you are, I'm working for Voldemort."  
  
"Woah, hang on a minute, Row. You've gone from being a harmless supporter to working for him." Rowan signaled that he needed to tap his cigarette again, which he did if sulkily.  
  
"Draco, what I tell you is important." He rolled his eyes.  
  
"Father's already said."  
  
"Forget Lucius, this is my life on the line. If you breathe a word of my story to anyone Malfoy, then I'm dead. And a certain curse will be working its magic on you too." She checked to see that he was suitably pale before continuing. "Last year, Crouch went in, Voldemort found him to be an invaluable source of information. Except the bugger went and got himself kissed, useless. My master, although he had not counted on this, knew that a teacher inside Hogwarts was one thing but a student was quite different. Word was sent to me that I would be there this year and that my Father and I should not attend the rebirthing last summer. Yet again, the little runt slipped through our hands, but a backup plan was made. I was told not only to collect information but to capture the one and only Potter too."  
  
Draco could not believe what she had just said. "No." He whispered, shaking his head. "Not you, not you getting Potter. No, that's not true."  
  
"Oh I assure you it is Draco. Nothing has been more real, as you shall find out. You are going to help me trap him, my darling."  
  
*****  
  
A/N: Sorry it's been so long since my last update, silly really as it was all ready to load up but I couldn't get to a PC. Well I have German and Latin exams on Monday and Tuesday so AGGHHHH slightly. :/ !! Anyway I hope you review and enjoy! HUGS  
  
Cancerious: Hmmm well you shall have to see what happens to Mr. Potter (I seem to have got into the habit of calling him that!). As for Rowan, I suspect her reaction will be quite different to how most would expect and as for her getting together with Draco, well I think he will have to prove himself worthy..  
  
Serenia-dreamer of the woods: Thank-you! There are a few sappy stories out there but I love 'em just as much as I do the gritty ones! Hehe. I apologise again for not updating, it's all a bit hectic right now. Hope you enjoy!  
  
Jeanne: Yep I did know the Lucy/Lucius thing. I've always been a little unsure of my name but am gradually coming round to it. Well the threads have expanded again and I am actually changing some plot lines therefore I am sorry to say this fic will not be over quite yet! I am seeing some Lucius/Anthony conflict approaching so wands at the ready. 


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